


Westward

by CaptainReina



Series: Westward [1]
Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Diabetic Wolf, Drowning, Established Friendship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Found Family, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Permanent Injury, Temporary Character Death, Trauma, aroace character, far too many excuses for characters to know japanese, gratuitous overuse of sleep as a scene transition, i tried very hard to get my research right so i hope it all checks out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 90,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainReina/pseuds/CaptainReina
Summary: Immortal severance and purification are temporary. Wolf and Kuro seek a different solution, and find themselves far from home in a foreign land.aka i deeply hated the sekiro endings and wanted one where they both live, and it got away from me. please mind the tags!
Relationships: Kuro | The Divine Heir & Sekiro | Wolf
Series: Westward [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115114
Comments: 91
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has taken me most of the year to complete, and i'm elated that it's finally done. i hope you all enjoy!
> 
> note the oc tag - they exist out of necessity, as this entire fic takes place far from ashina. i hope you all like them regardless :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma laid a gentle hand atop his, squeezing lightly. "Be careful out there, Lord Kuro."
> 
> He closed his eyes. "We will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this first chapter is exceptionally short, but all future chapters are at least 4.5k words! ^^

"Wolf . . . where are you?"

"I am at your side."

"Ah . . . " Kuro's eyes cracked open, a relief, as his body was remarkably cold. His gaze fixed on Wolf hovering over him, covered in blood and breathing hard from battle but supportive and unwavering nonetheless. "There you are. The dragon's tears . . . ?"

Strong arms settled under his back and legs, and then Kuro was weightless. Alarmingly chilly, Kuro turned his face into Wolf's haori, who began to carry him away from the field of blood-spattered flowers.

"Rest. We can discuss it later."

Kuro obeyed, heavy eyelids sliding blissfully shut once more as his shinobi whisked him away in the light of dawn.

* * *

"Master Wolf - he's awake."

"Lady Emma?"

Her kind, gentle expression was the first thing Kuro saw when he opened his eyes again. The pulsing pain in his abdomen had faded into a faint ache, and he pressed an idle hand against the spot where Genichiro's blade had sunk into his flesh. Before he could ask any questions, however, there was a scuffling sound and hurried footsteps, and then his loyal Wolf's face was replacing Emma's spot in his vision.

"My Lord," he said. The concern on his features was so painfully earnest that it tugged at Kuro's heart to see it. "Are you feeling well?"

"I am," Kuro replied with a quiet tone of promise, though his hand still pressed to his side, as though he was reluctant to believe his own words. "I admit, I did not expect to wake up."

"Your wounds were grave," Emma agreed, speaking from his right, and Kuro turned his head to her. "But it was nothing the healing waters could not fix. Can you sit?"

Kuro tried and found that he could, though he felt rather than saw Wolf's hand hovering close behind him, ready to catch him if he could not handle it. Dizziness overtook him as he rose, and he placed a hand on his head, hesitating as his eyesight went briefly fuzzy and not missing the concerned furrow in Wolf's brow. He was certain he had lost much blood, and it would take time to recover. But Emma and Wolf waited patiently until he was well enough to speak again, ever so kind to him, and it was a tad embarrassing sometimes.

"Wolf," he finally said, and the shinobi straightened to attention, "do you have the dragon's tears?"

The pause that followed his question was very uncharacteristic of Wolf, and Kuro watched the man share a pensive glance with Emma. The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Wolf's bicep before they both turned back to Kuro, and curiosity more than concerned had Kuro's brow raising.

"Is there something I should know?"

Emma's hand fell from Wolf's arm with a firm nod, and Wolf bowed his head to Kuro - something the Divine Heir recognized as a gesture Wolf made when he bore bad news. "My Lord," he began in a tone that spoke of wariness but determination, "I apologize, but Lady Emma and I believe that severing immortality is not the correct course of action."

"Wolf, raise your head," Kuro commanded, and though his shinobi obeyed, Wolf did not meet his eyes. "You know I will not punish you for pursuing your own operations. I trust you have a good reason to do so."

"I was the one who asked him," Emma cut in, and Kuro turned his curious gaze to her. "I loathe to think you should die for this. You are so young and immortal severance too temporary to warrant your death. I sought another option and asked Wolf to help me."

"I do not wish to see you die, either," Wolf said quietly, and it struck a far deeper chord in Kuro than it perhaps should have. Nonetheless, Emma continued.

"First we sought the solution of the Everblossom, but that would have resulted in Master Wolf's death, instead, which was not much better of a result." Wolf opened his mouth to speak, and Emma tacked on pointedly, "No matter how much he insists he would have done it willingly."

"It would not have been better," Kuro agreed, quite glad they had not gone that direction, especially behind his back. "So what course of action do you suggest we take?"

"The Divine Child of Rejuvenation proposed something far different from severing immortality altogether," Wolf replied, and Kuro's curiosity only mounted. "She suggested we return the Dragon's Heritage to its homeland."

The silence that followed was not an angry one, but the way Wolf bowed his head a moment later showed that was how he interpreted it. But truly, Kuro was only frustrated at himself, for why had he never considered such an option himself? It was no secret that the dragon was not from Japan, as the Heritage was a new concept, on a relative scale. To think Kuro had never thought of the possibility of returning it home . . .

"How can we accomplish such a thing?" Kuro asked, and Wolf, thankfully, raised his head ever so slightly.

"We deliver the Dragon's Heritage west," he answered simply, "and the dragon should follow. This is what the Divine Child tells me. And if it does not work . . . "

"We still have the tears," Kuro finished for him, and Wolf nodded quietly. Sensing his apprehension, Kuro added, "I hope it does not get to that point. I do not want either of us to die, if it can be helped."

"Then you will go?" Emma asked hopefully, and Kuro nodded.

"Yes. Will you be joining us, Lady Emma?"

A forlorn smile crossed her face, and she shook her head. "There is much use for a doctor in Ashina right now, and I would only slow you down. I wish you all the luck, however, and I have money to contribute should you need it."

"Do not concern yourself with that," Wolf cut in. "I have collected more than enough to get us across the sea, and from there we will not likely have any use for foreign money."

"Then it's settled," Kuro declared. "Tomorrow, we will set out from Ashina for the nearest docks. Will you collect supplies for the journey, Wolf?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then you should rest," Emma told him as Wolf stood and headed for the exit, and it was then that Kuro finally noticed they were in the dilapidated temple. "You will need to recover as much as you can before such a long journey."

"Of course," Kuro agreed, laying back down. Then, patting Emma's hand, he added softly, "Thank you."

She laid a gentle hand atop his, squeezing lightly. "Be careful out there, Lord Kuro."

He closed his eyes. "We will."

* * *

Wolf had procured quite the heavy pack of supplies, filled equally with foods slow to perish and their own necessities, though he shouldered it like they weighed nothing. With a hat to protect him from both the sun and wandering eyes, Kuro followed his shinobi as they left the temple and began to head west.

Sitting on the edge of Ashina's territory, the temple was not far from the shore, though the surrounding mountains that protected Ashina from most sides made it difficult to pass. Still Wolf knew of a valley leading straight west, used once for exports but now guarded in case of attack, and with a quick dispatch of a few soldiers (that Kuro could not help but cover his eyes for) they were free to traverse the path.

There was only a few hours' walk through the valley, according to Wolf, before they reached the shore, but then he was not certain how far they would have to travel before reaching a coastal village.

"It has been many long years since I was out of Ashina," Wolf admitted, and Kuro cocked his head curiously.

"When did you leave?" he asked.

"Never," Wolf replied, earning further confusion from Kuro before he clarified, "I am not from Ashina. The war drew me here."

"Where are you from?"

Wolf shook his head. "I do not know. I only remember being alone."

Kuro knew Wolf had not been much older than himself when Owl had taken him under his wing. He could not imagine living his life thus far alone. Not only lacking his mother, father, and uncle, but also to be left without the kind Emma, or even his loyal Wolf - the mere thought had a horrible loneliness tugging at Kuro's heart, and he laid an automatic hand on his chest. Had Wolf truly had no one for so long?

"Well," he finally piped up, and Wolf cast a curious look his way at the chipper tone, "you're not alone anymore. You're stuck with me now!"

Wolf's expression softened, then closed off again so quickly Kuro thought he might have imagined it. He gave a noncommittal hum low in his throat, returning his attention to the path ahead, but when his fingers brushed against the tiny satchel tied to the sheath of Kusabimaru, Kuro knew he had struck a chord somewhere in his shinobi.

"Yes, my Lord."

How long had it been since Kuro had lovingly crafted the charm? How long had Wolf kept it close to his person? He had never come across to Kuro as the sentimental type, but then again, Kuro had never even noticed that Wolf held his gift all that time. He hoped it had served his shinobi well, and would continue to on their long journey.

They would need it.

Their trek through the valley was a silent one, and apprehension curled and twisted in Kuro's gut as they approached the end of it. A wind whistled through it at all times, creating an eerie noise, and as they made their way through, it seemed to grow colder and colder until Kuro was shivering under his layers. Ashina often caught chill, but not like this, and he held his arms close to his body as he willed himself to keep moving through the effective wind tunnel.

At least, he thought fervently, the sun was rising high between the mountains, granting a little warmth when the wind died down some, though he drew closer to Wolf as a wind buffer nonetheless. His shinobi did not seem to mind in the slightest, and when a particularly strong gust nearly toppled Kuro over and he grasped blindly for Wolf's hand, the man allowed it to stay there.

Wolf, himself, seemed entirely unmoved by the gusts. Immortal though he was, Kuro still loathed his own frailty.

The valley gradually began to widen, however, and the wind's power lessened as more light was able to shine down on them. Reluctant to let go of Wolf's hand as they encroached further into unknown territory, Kuro held tight, and Wolf offered a reassuring squeeze as they moved onward. The light grew brighter and brighter as they reached the end of the valley, intensifying until Kuro was squinting from the light.

A quiet noise Kuro recognized as surprise came somewhere from above him, and Kuro cracked an eye open in curiosity . . . and gasped.

Snow.

No wonder it had been so cold, or so bright. The sun's light bounced off the white expanse, twinkled brightly through the crystallized branches of the sparse trees, and Kuro stared at it all in wonder. He had only ever heard stories of snow; all his life, Ashina had been swathed in the fiery golds and auburns and crimson of autumn, the ground littered with colorful fallen leaves and delicate cherry blossom petals. Never had he known anything else.

"Have you ever seen anything like it, Wolf?" Kuro's voice was hardly above a whisper, fearing that the peaceful beauty of the scene would shatter if he disrupted the silence.

"Perhaps," Wolf replied slowly, thinking, "once. I do not recall it well."

Kuro's hand slid from his grasp, and Wolf allowed him to go. He could feel the shinobi's eyes on him as he knelt down and sunk a hand into the snow. It was certainly far colder than he expected, enough to elicit a sharp inhale, though not so cold he could not bear it, and it seemed only a handful of centimeters deep. Beneath it he felt the remnants of dead grass, and when he pulled back, the simple imprint of his hand left behind fascinated him.

With a giddy smile spreading on his cheeks, he scooped up a handful of snow, and though his fingers prickled with the cold he paid it no mind. It did not pack together well, so he could not form a snowball like in the fond stories others would tell him. Instead he threw it in the air and watched it spread out into a fine powder that drifted slowly to the ground and settled in his hair and clothes, a delighted giggle escaping him at the pretty sight.

Perhaps a tad too excited, he reached down for another handful - and then sneezed.

"Lord Kuro," Wolf instantly spoke up, dropping to one knee and taking Kuro's freezing, stinging hands between his own, "you will catch cold."

"Sorry," Kuro mumbled, and his fingers tingled unpleasantly back to life as Wolf breathed on his hands to warm them. "It's childish of me, I know."

"There will be more snow," Wolf promised, and Kuro brightened at the idea, already dreaming of days spent making snow angels and snowmen like the stories he was told. Gently, Wolf guided Kuro's hands to tuck into the opposite sleeves. "Until then, please be careful. You can lose unprotected fingers to the chill."

"Lovely thought," Kuro replied with a shudder more from horror than the cold, and latched his freezing fingers to his arms in the hope that they would warm up quickly. "Let's move on, then, and hopefully find someplace warm before nightfall."

It was something he had not thought of, that the seasons may be different outside of the dragon's influence. Clearly Wolf had not considered it either, for otherwise he certainly would have bundled Kuro up into something warmer for the journey. Kuro was thankful, at least, that he had chosen proper shoes for all the walking they would be doing, though the cold still seeped through them soon enough, and he vowed to search for thicker socks the moment he was able.

They picked their way through the sparse trees for perhaps another hour, and finally reached the coast. While there was no beach or even much sand to speak of, the sight of the sun reflecting a brilliant gold off the gently lapping waves was breathtaking nonetheless. Wolf would not allow him too close, however, for the aggressive splashing of saltwater against the rocks betrayed its true strength, and Kuro knew he was too weak to fight the currents were he to fall in.

"I can't swim, anyway," he admitted wistfully as Wolf's hand on his shoulder steered him away from the water. Wolf gave a thoughtful hum in reply.

"Someday, I will teach you, if you wish."

"Someday," Kuro echoed hopefully, the offer not an unattractive one.

They traveled south along the coast, a good few meters from the water, and as the sun began to lower and the chill grew colder and Kuro began to shiver, he had accepted that it would not be their luck to find a village - no less one that saw boat traffic - on their first day out of Ashina. As the sky grew orange and the world around them darkened, Wolf led the way back into tree cover, and set to collecting wood for a fire.

As Wolf procured oil to help the fire take, worried to stay in the cold too much longer, Kuro picked out some of their more perishable foods to eat. It had been a long day without much, and though with Ashina's struggles he was quite used to not living on much, his stomach still growled from all the walking on little fuel.

Bread and two apples selected, Kuro set them aside, and brought out the bedrolls as Wolf started to get the fire properly going. Surely the shinobi would have preferred doing the prep himself so as not to burden his master, but moving around kept Kuro just that little bit warmer until the fire was burning strong.

They ate together in calm quiet, the fire dancing in the light breeze and warming Kuro's fingers and toes, and with the growling of his stomach tamed Kuro felt sleep finally begin to drag at his eyelids. Wolf remained seated cross-legged on his bedding as Kuro slipped into his own, Kusabimaru laid across his lap, and he showed no visible sign of tiring even as Kuro was prepared to pass out.

"I will keep watch," he said, and though Kuro felt guilt that his shinobi would not sleep he was rapidly losing the will to protest.

"Good night, then, Wolf."

"Sleep well, my Lord."

Kuro closed his eyes and drifted, and dreamed of playing in the snow with his shinobi's protective gaze watching over him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are still young, my Lord. You cannot be expected to know everything about the world."
> 
> "I want to learn," Kuro said determinedly.
> 
> "I am sure you will," Wolf replied honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor cw for drugging? it's not drugs, and it's not serious, but the Vibe is there
> 
> yes i AM being heavyhanded with the family theme and no i DO NOT care

Sleep was something Wolf rarely caught much of, so watching over his master as he rested was nothing new. It was the wait, however, that got to him; wondering when the Ministry would attack Ashina now that it was in chaos, when they would discover Kuro was missing, when they would come searching for the Divine Heir. They were sure to soon be branded fugitives and hunted, and every second spent alert was wearying.

Wolf was eager to be moving again, quick to pack their things once more and cover their firepit with snow once Kuro was awake and ready to travel again. He was not keen on staying still for too long, and wondered how well his master would take to being carried through sleep in the future so they would not have to linger too long in any one place.

Of course Wolf would have to rest eventually, but he did not like to think about that.

Kuro was sleepy, clear in the way he yawned every few minutes and rubbed at his eyes. The child had always had a nice place to rest his head; sleeping on the hard ground outdoors in the bitter cold was not something his fragile body was used to, clearly, so Wolf allowed him to hold his hand for support and lean on him as they walked, even if it resulted in a slower pace than the shinobi would have liked.

It was their luck that they happened upon a port village on their second day out of Ashina. When the tops of buildings appeared on the horizon, Kuro had snapped to wakefulness almost instantly, and Wolf could see how it took all his restraint not to run ahead in excitement. Wolf was admittedly more guarded, but he reminded himself that Kuro was a child and had never seen the world outside of Ashina before. He was bound to be excited.

The village loomed closer as the sun rose higher in the sky, and they could see the specks of bustling people and the masts of large ships docked on the coast. The buildings were constructed quite differently from Ashina's, seeming to opt for expanding outward rather than adding floors, though curiously they were elevated on quite high foundations. Wolf assumed it was primarily related to flooding.

The sun was still high but beginning its descent when they finally entered the village. Stone paths weaved between the buildings and led to a central market that bustled with activity, and along the paths and in doorways and hurrying past the visitors were people of all sorts - men and women and children talking and laughing and hurrying along on whatever business they were up to.

The people themselves, at least, were not so different from Ashina's citizens, so although Kuro and Wolf stuck out, they did not do so as boldly as Wolf had feared they might. Judging by the spared, brief glances their way, the villagers were quite used to visitors anyway, and they were left well alone.

"I suppose we should find a ship that will take us," Kuro said, though he only drew closer to Wolf, seemingly overwhelmed at actually being around such bustling activity rather than viewing it at a distance.

"Yes," was Wolf's simple response, and he allowed Kuro to take the lead through the crowds.

They opted to take a path around the market rather than trying to cut through the practical mob there, and making their way west past the many buildings eventually brought them to a sprawling system of docks. Six, perhaps seven sizable boats were anchored there, with smaller fishing boats scattered amongst them. Burly men loaded cargo on and off their ships, chatting and laughing with a few scribbling on paper, and the smell of fresh fish was nearly overwhelming.

"You don't look like sailors," came a gruff voice, a heavy hand clapping onto Wolf's shoulder from behind. Startling, Wolf whirled around and pushed Kuro behind him with a hand on Kusabimaru's hilt, facing a large man with graying hair. The stranger held his hands up in placating apology, eyeing the sword warily. "Whoah, easy, didn't mean to spook you. Is there something you folks need?"

Bristling at the easy way he was brushed off, Wolf found himself reluctant to answer. Kuro, peeking around Wolf's legs, did it for him. "Are there any passenger boats we can take to the mainland?"

"The mainland?" the man echoed in surprise, and one of his callused hands came up to stroke his rough beard. A few wary glances were cast their way after the small ruckus, but Wolf ignored them. "Hmm. Passenger ships, no, but you might see Taniguchi. He's been known to play ferry now and then."

"Thank you for the help," Kuro said, bowing politely, and with a pointed tap to his thigh Wolf reluctantly followed suit.

The man waved them off, and the two of them headed toward the ship he had gestured to, Wolf's hand resting protectively on Kuro's shoulder with the excessive amount of activity around them. The vessel itself was large but not the biggest of them, and as they drew closer they could hear an older man barking orders at the younger ones scurrying about.

There were perhaps a dozen of them. Most of them wore headbands to protect their eyes from the sweat they were somehow producing despite the cold, and they hoisted incredibly heavy-looking boxes from the pier to the ship. Curved blades hung heavy on their belts. Some were Japanese, while others did not seem to be, and Wolf presumed they were from the mainland.

The two of them ducked around the hustle and bustle of the sailors, and when they were face-to-face with the man shouting orders, he glanced up from the pad of paper in his hands and narrowed his eyes at Wolf. It was a judging stare, sizing him up, and Wolf realized a moment later that this man, however stout and aged he seemed, was seasoned and experienced and certainly put on edge by the sight of a very armed shinobi approaching them.

"Are you Taniguchi?" Kuro asked, and the man's expression morphed from hostility to surprise as his gaze lowered to the child's level. "We were told you may be willing to take us to the mainland."

"I've been known to do so," Taniguchi replied, and his tone was gruff and commanding even when not yelling, but there was a kindness in his eyes as he addressed Kuro. The presence of a child seemed to relax him somehow, though he was still wary when he turned back to Wolf. "It'll be a rough trip, though. She's not fitted for idle passengers, and certainly not for kids."

"That's alright," Kuro said, and curiously, Taniguchi seemed surprised to hear him speak once more. "I'll live. How much will it cost us?"

Taniguchi did not answer, and when he did speak, it was with his interested eyes fixed on Wolf and his words not related to the question. "You don't talk much, do you?" he asked, tilting his head, and the challenge in his tone did not go unnoticed by the shinobi.

"My . . . " he started to say, then hesitated. It would have been unwise to reveal Kuro's status outside of Ashina. "He can speak for himself."

"So you can talk," Taniguchi mused, nodding in seemingly satisfaction. "All right. Name your price. How valuable's this trip to you?"

Kuro opened his mouth to speak, some innocent proclamation that it was surely incredibly valuable, that they would pay anything, but Wolf stopped him with a squeeze of his shoulder, glare burning holes in Taniguchi's stupid grin. He knew this scheme; not only that, but -

"Thought you said the boy could speak for himself."

Wolf was ready to knock Taniguchi's few remaining teeth down his throat, but remained composed for Kuro's sake. Instead, he pulled a light coin purse from his haori and dropped it into the sailor's hand, refusing to play his game as he asked, "How's this?"

"Won, huh?" Taniguchi hummed, peeking into the back and weighing it in his hand. "Gonna need a bit more if you're paying in this stuff." Wolf obediently offered a nearly identical purse, and the man smiled. "Ah, there we are. Good man. We'll be setting sail within the hour - we're already _running late!"_

The last part was shouted pointedly to his crew, who hastened in their loading with grunts of effort. With a flourish, Taniguchi gestured to the boarding plank.

"Feel free to hop aboard, boys. If you've any other business to attend to, make it quick."

"We will return," Wolf replied, and steered Kuro away from the boat.

There was one stop he hoped to make before they set out on the sea, so he headed for the market, where the activity had slowed somewhat. Many merchants were closing up shop as the sun began to fall and chill set in, but it seemed he was just in time for what he sought, Kuro trailing along behind him as he approached a stand covered in furs.

"You don't like him."

Wolf peered at Kuro from the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the furs. "He is not a malicious man, but he is quite the pest." Most were simple hides, but a few were modeled into clothing, and he tested a couple, shrugging them over his shoulders to judge their thickness and warmth.

"It was a hefty price for the ride," Kuro muttered, then cocked his head. "Was he conning us?"

"I am sure he thinks he did," Wolf replied. "I expected to spend more, but it was easy to make him believe we are poor."

"I see." Kuro paused, then said in a small voice, "I'm glad you're here. He would have fooled me."

"Hmm." Settling on a coat made from tanuki fur, Wolf offered the merchant admittedly more coin than he had intended to spend, and knelt down to fit it over Kuro's clothes. It was big on him, but Kuro nuzzled cutely into the soft fur with an appreciative hum. "You are still young, my Lord. You cannot be expected to know everything about the world."

"I want to learn," Kuro said determinedly. Wolf stood once more and started back to the docks.

"I am sure you will," he replied honestly. "There is a long road ahead of us."

It was times like these, with Kuro drowning in clothes too big for him and looking up at his shinobi with big, hopeful eyes, that reminded Wolf his master was still only a child, and a sheltered one at that. While Kuro had faced many things, most of his exposure to the world was through books and word of mouth, and as Wolf allowed Kuro to lead him back to the ship he worried what new things would give him trouble as he explored the world outside the safety of his own room.

Taniguchi was waiting for them on the ship, two of his sailors loading on their last box as Kuro and Wolf arrived. Wolf walked behind them as they made their way up the plank, prepared to catch Kuro should he need it, and they were on the ship soon enough. Taniguchi approached them, and though Wolf was still on edge, the smile he wore now was markedly more friendly.

"Thought you were just gonna let me run off with your money," the captain joked.

"You wouldn't!" Kuro gasped, and Taniguchi laughed.

"I wouldn't," he agreed. "I can't turn down a kid in need. What's your name, anyway?"

"Kuro," he answered, completely unfazed by the informal way Taniguchi spoke to him, where Wolf was incredibly thrown off by hearing someone refer to his master without any ceremony. "This is Wolf."

"Kuro," Taniguchi repeated, then extended his hand to the shinobi, "and Wolf." His eyes twinkled merrily as Wolf reluctantly shook his hand. "There are some empty hammocks below deck. Feel free to explore, just don't touch the cargo. The stretch heading south to the eastern sea is bumpy, so if you get seasick, try to keep it in a bucket or over the side."

"Seasick?" Kuro asked, a note of concern in his tone, and Taniguchi laughed.

"Don't worry, kid, I'm sure we've got some ginger laying around here somewhere."

* * *

Infuriatingly and embarrassingly enough, Kuro was not the one to get seasick. After the initial fear of being tossed overboard, he rather enjoyed the rough sway of the ship over a particularly angry wave, shrieking and giggling as Wolf took hold of his arm to keep him anchored in case the motion threw him off. Taniguchi laughed every time, and often the sailors joined in, all quite interested in the sweet boy that accompanied the stoic shinobi.

No, it was Wolf that found his stomach twisting in knots, sickness rising from his gut up his spine to the base of his skull. It brought a pounding headache to accompany the need to vomit, and though he was determinedly stoic, every time a particularly rough wave hit and Wolf latched tight to the railing with a lurch of his stomach and a barely-withheld retch, Kuro glanced up at him with a fading smile and growing concern.

And Taniguchi, the bastard, had the nerve to shoot him a knowing look and disappear into his cabin half an hour into the trip, bringing back a clear flask with a slightly cloudy golden liquid inside. "Ginger tea," he supplied, pushing it into Wolf's hand, and the shinobi shook his head.

"I am fine," he insisted, and both the captain and Kuro frowned.

"You're getting greener by the second, lad," Taniguchi pointed out. "It's not poison, do you think I'm heartless? Drink up."

Wolf tried to protest again, but Kuro crossed his little arms pointedly, and reluctantly Wolf's fingers closed around the flask. "As if any old poison could kill him, anyway," Kuro said, and though the lilt was joking, the unspoken command was still there, so albeit with a deep frown Wolf obediently uncorked the flask and took a swig.

It was terribly bitter, Wolf's taste buds all but recoiling and begging for added sugar, but at an encouraging nod from Kuro and a _go on_ motion from Taniguchi he reluctantly drained the container. The captain took it back once emptied, nodding in satisfaction, and as if on cue the ship chose that exact moment to lurch violently.

Wolf thought he might expel all the tea back out right then and there, but with a hand over his mouth and an immense amount of sheer willpower he managed to keep it down. Kuro's fingers latching into his haori caught his attention, and he glanced down to see his master's concerned gaze searching his face.

"You might head below deck," Taniguchi suggested, and Kuro nodded, tugging gently at the haori and pulling Wolf in the direction of the stairs.

"Maybe you'll feel better in the hold," he agreed, and though shame burned in Wolf's cheeks at both his own show of weakness and listening to the input of a man like the captain, he obediently followed Kuro into the depths of the ship.

Down the stairs they went, into the area where the sailors apparently slept, a multitude of hammocks strung up between supports. It was against one of the supports that Wolf settled, sliding to the ground and resting his forehead in his false hand. He hadn't realized how warm he felt until the cool metal of his prosthetic came as a relief.

Kuro's small hand rubbed sympathetically at his back, and Wolf hadn't the energy to tell him not to do it. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, and Wolf only shook his head.

He was exhausted enough, and now with no audience he felt no need to keep up appearances by forcing himself to speak - opening his mouth only seemed to make it worse. Things were not much better in the hold, though he did find his dizziness fading somewhat as the rocking was lessened by the more central spot. No doubt his lack of sleep was worsening his symptoms.

Just the thought of sleep made his eyelids feel even heavier than they already had, and as Wolf closed his eyes in an effort to fend off the illness, his whole body grew heavy, as well. Kuro's reassuring motions on his back only added to the draw of sleep, and no matter how much he loathed the idea of resting around so many strangers he could not deny how attractive the option seemed.

"You should sleep, Wolf," Kuro said, his voice sounding rather distant, albeit still worried. "You haven't gotten any, and I'm sure a nap will give it plenty of time to kick in."

Who was Wolf to deny his master's suggestion?

It only took seconds for him to drift off, the rocking of the ship and sound of its creaking wood fading to nothing.

* * *

"Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't know, son. There was a bit of chamomile in there, but only because the poor fella looked like he could stand to relax. It shouldn't have put him to sleep."

"Well, he hasn't slept for almost two days now . . . "

"Ah, that'd do it. Just give him some time."

Sleeping light was a survival skill he had carefully honed with Owl, and the moment voices sounded near him, however soft they were trying to be, he was awake, though not as alert as he typically would be. It took him a few moments of listening before he could raise his head, groggy from his impromptu nap, and Kuro turned from where he had been speaking to their visitor to smile at Wolf.

"You're awake!" he greeted brightly, face lighting up, and he knelt beside Wolf. "How are you feeling?"

 _Thirsty,_ he almost said, but remembered the third person and turned his glare toward Taniguchi, who was seated on the stairs to the deck with his elbows resting on his knees. The man had the nerve to look guilty as Wolf ground out, "You. What did you give me?"

"I didn't think you'd up and knock out," the captain defended himself, frown deepening. "Sorry. But you feel better, right?"

It was true, Wolf's head and stomach aches were gone, as well as the faintness they brought with them, but Wolf's eyes were still wary, his fingers settling on Kusabimaru's hilt. "I do not take kindly to being _drugged._ How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours," Kuro supplied, and his hand covered Wolf's on the sword, forcing the shinobi to meet his earnest gaze. "Come on. He didn't mean any harm. He may be a questionable con artist, but he is not malicious."

"What the kid said," Taniguchi agreed, then paused, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening. "Wait, you knew about that?"

"That you try to leech every coin you can from the naive?" Kuro clarified sweetly, and Taniguchi ducked his head shamefully. "You are not very good at it."

"Ah, well," Taniguchi meekly responded, "I've got a soft spot for kids."

With Kuro's pleading gaze and Taniguchi's wary eyes on his sword, Wolf heaved a sigh, pushed himself to his feet, and approached the man on the stairs. To his pleasant surprise, the movement did not bring a fresh wave of dizziness, so he fought to seem stern when he latched onto Taniguchi's wrist and yanked him forward so they were nose-to-nose.

"Do not lie to us again," he warned, and the fear on Taniguchi's face was so comical Wolf could feel the muscles in his own fight not to smile. "And next time, leave the chamomile out of the tea."

He released the man, who nodded fiercely and let Wolf pass up the stairs, an apologetic Kuro at his heels. "Yes, sir, mister Wolf, sir," Taniguchi muttered under his breath, notably very rattled and, satisfied with his work, Wolf ascended to the deck once more with Kuro following closely behind.

It was dark, and the moon was large in the sky, casting a shimmering white glow onto the midnight blue waters beneath it. Wolf could not recall a time where he did not stand under either a canopy of trees or buildings or mountains to see the night sky, and the tiny pinpricks of light that were the stars scattered farther and wider than he ever could have imagined. The lovely purples and blues of the canvas were picturesque, taking his breath away for a long moment, and in the spots where black leeched through it looked almost as if the sky were ripping open to swallow them whole.

"Wow," Kuro sighed, full of wonder, and Wolf internally echoed the sentiment wholeheartedly. Footsteps sounded behind them, though Wolf did not bother turning to look.

"You never get used to that view," Taniguchi agreed. Kuro startled slightly, then turned his attention to the captain.

"I'm sorry for Wolf," he said, and though Wolf bristled inwardly, he could not voice the protest of _I need not be apologized for._ "He doesn't like leaving me unattended for long."

Wolf kept his gaze determinedly directed at the sky, idly noting how he had yet to feel sick, but Kuro elbowed his side rather pointedly and the shinobi fought not to sigh. Reluctantly, he turned toward the captain and, offering his lowest bow and most sincere tone despite how much he loathed to, he forced out, "I apologize."

"I get it," Taniguchi replied, waving off Wolf's apology with a casual hand as he leaned against the ship's railing. "What are you, brothers? Father and son?"

"Wolf has taken care of me for a very long time," Kuro answered carefully as Wolf's breath stuttered ever so slightly at the simple heresy of the guesses, and Taniguchi hummed.

"Found family is just as real," he grunted, "and just as important. I know you're just looking out for the kid, Wolf." Taniguchi chuckled and added, "Just remember you don't have to look so scary while doing it!"

Being scary certainly was effective, in Wolf's opinion, but his thoughts halted as the word _family_ repeated amongst them.

Was that the word he would use to explain his relationship with Kuro? Certainly they had strayed past simple lord and retainer, for it was not every servant that suffered a hundred deaths for their master or had quite so much feeling tied into the way they cared for their lord's needs, nor was it every master that presented their servant with gifts or looked to them for companionship and care; certainly Wolf was quite protective over Kuro even without the oath binding them, and Kuro never kept secret his fondness for the loyal shinobi that never let him down.

Perhaps not brother, or son, for they were not relationships Wolf had experienced to compare, but certainly he felt more and more as though he strayed further into the role of caretaker than simple manservant. He did not hide from himself the desire to keep Kuro safe, to make him smile, to see him grow and flourish and be happy in life, so much so that he had even dared to plot behind his master's back to make it so. It was no longer the Iron Code that told Wolf to lay down his life for Kuro's happiness, but his own will.

 _Family,_ Wolf thought fondly, _yes, family,_ and hoped Kuro thought the same. Judging by the subconscious way Kuro reached for his hand, always seeking support and comfort from the only adult that had always been there for him, Wolf knew he did.

"Anyway," Taniguchi said, jolting Wolf from his thoughts and making him guiltily wonder how long the man had been waiting for a response in silence, "who's gonna hurt him out on the open sea? Nothing out here but us. And, well, I guess bad weather. And maybe pirates. But what are the odds?"

It was an incredibly terrible thing to say, and Wolf almost stopped him when he heard the words begin to tumble from his mouth, but found he was too late to prevent fate being tempted. Taniguchi's smile faltered as Wolf's muscles went taut, the hairs on the back of his neck on end, and the three of them stood in tense silence for all of a few long moments before there was a cry from one of the crew.

"There's a ship out there, captain!"

Taniguchi's eyebrows shot up so far they disappeared behind his graying hair, and his head jerked upward as he shouted up the main mast, "What do you see?"

A pause, and then an annoyed, "What do you _think?!"_

"Damn it," Taniguchi hissed under his breath, turning back to his guests. "Ah, I'm a fool." Wolf couldn't agree more. "No worries, boys, we've fought off our fair share of unfriendlies."

"Are you sure?" Kuro fretted, and Wolf had not forgotten how many times the child had been reassured that things were handled by adults only for them to go awry. "Wolf can help, at least."

The ship was drawing closer, close enough Wolf could see its dark silhouette blotting out the gleaming waters. Orange dots littered its deck, most likely torches, and grimly Wolf realized they likely intended to burn Taniguchi's ship. Whether they won the fight or not, if the pirates succeeded in starting a fire, then Taniguchi's crew would be losing regardless.

"You'd better be good with that nice sword of yours, then," Taniguchi said grimly, drawing the curved blade from his own belt. "You might want to get the boy below deck."

For once agreeing with Taniguchi, Wolf turned his attention to Kuro to herd him back to the ship's hold despite any protests, but then Kuro gasped and clung to the railing, nearly hanging over the edge as his eyes went huge. Wolf spared a glance to where he was looking, and found his gaze stuck, fixated on an odd lump in the water as though land had sprouted suddenly in front of the hostile ship.

And then, slowly, the lump began to rise, becoming something of an arch that the threatening ship tucked neatly into, and not a moment later another loop appeared behind it to fit around the middle of the ship. Massive, scaly, Wolf realized with a start that they must belong to some serpent, and his grip on the still-sheathed Kusabimaru tightened. It seemed he would have to fight something far more threatening than men, and only hoped the ship he stood on would not be a casualty.

A final blue tendril of a powerful body looped around the captured ship, and once properly coiled around it, began to constrict. Kuro gave a shocked cry at the sight, the wood splitting and cracking and splintering like matchsticks, and in seconds it was nothing but driftwood, with a few bodies floating amongst the wreckage. If they were not dead, Wolf was certain they would be soon in the freezing temperatures.

And then the blue arches of the beast's body started toward their ship.

"Oh, mercy," Taniguchi uttered softly, sounding so very resigned. "I never even got a wife."

"Do not give up so easily," Wolf said, drawing Kusabimaru from its sheath and propping one foot up on the railing. He had taken on far greater than a sea serpent, and won.

Though not without losses. Staring at the beast as it plunged suddenly from the water into the sky, revealing itself not to be a serpent but a shimmering blue dragon, Wolf wondered wearily how many times he would die to this one, and how he would explain such a thing to the crew, were they to survive the encounter.

But the dragon stopped, lingering with most of its body out of the sea, and it stared for a long while at the ship as though pondering something.

It was enough time for Wolf to take in the majesty of the beast; it was every bit as large as the divine dragon of Ashina, if not even larger, and though he was certain it was more breathtaking under the sun, the moon still shone brilliantly against azure scales. Its mane drifted as though kept aloft by some unknown breeze, and curiously, flowers were woven into it, of all colors and shapes and sizes. Its large eyes were curious, contemplative - until its gaze settled on Kuro.

So suddenly nobody seemed to process it but Wolf, the dragon began to move, lightning fast with its long body streaming gracefully behind it, and it was pure instinct that had Wolf sprinting ahead of it to throw himself in front of his master. Hunch of the dragon's identity growing, Wolf shoved Kusabimaru back into its sheath and reached for the blade on his back instead.

He thrust it out in front of him, and the dragon halted so abruptly before the blade that its body coiled together behind his head from the sudden stop and water crashed over the ship from the force. But as the ship began to rock, curiously, bafflingly, the dragon reached out a wickedly clawed hand and steadied it with a grip on the railing, so small and frail in its grasp. The Mortal Blade's red glow reflected in the creature's dark eyes, and Wolf could scarcely breathe, unable to take his eyes off the massive dragon right in his face.

"That is a wicked thing you hold, human."

His breath was uncomfortably hot and smelled strangely of flowers and fresh grass. The last dragon Wolf fought had never been so close as this one.

"I have bested your kind before."

The large eyes narrowed in warning, and a hot huff of air escaped his nostrils. "You would be wise not to threaten the King of the Eastern Sea."

"Would you test my steel?" Wolf challenged, and the dragon let out yet another huff, sounding more amused now.

"No," he said, "but not from fear. Put that toothpick away, immortal; I will do you no harm. I am interested in _that_ one."

That unwavering gaze fixed on Kuro, who tensed up behind Wolf, fisting his hands into the shinobi's haori as he peeked carefully around his waist to keep an eye on the dragon. Shaking his head, Wolf firmly replied, "You will not have him."

"Not him," the dragon snorted impatiently. "Brother."

"Brother?" Kuro echoed curiously from behind Wolf; and then, in a voice that was decidedly not his master's, continued, **"You would be wise to leave well alone."**

"So it is you," the dragon breathed, wonder in his tone, though he eyed the sword warily in an obvious wish to grow closer. "You finally make your return."

 **"Do not speak as though you did not cast me away yourself,"** Kuro retorted, then slapped a mortified hand over his mouth. Keeping his grip tight on the Mortal Blade in case of any foul play, Wolf turned to check on him. For an instant, if he squinted, Wolf was positive he could see the shimmering outline of a small white dragon wreathed around Kuro's shoulders.

Astoundingly, where Wolf expected to find anger at his master's bold words, the dragon before them recoiled, scaly features shifting into something profoundly guilty. The dragon shifted away from the ship, powerful body sinking under the waves once more, only his head remaining.

"I see," he rumbled, closing his eyes. "I will ensure your safe passage across my waters. And I . . . truly have missed you, brother."

And then his head vanished under the water, and he was gone.

It was several long seconds before Wolf dared to breathe, and longer still before he dared believe the dragon truly was gone. Slowly, warily, he sheathed the Mortal Blade, then turned and dropped to one knee before Kuro. Kuro was remarkably shaken, ghost-white under the moon's light, and Wolf gave him a cursory once- and twice-over to be sure he was not injured before finally finding the words to speak.

"Are you harmed?" he asked, and Kuro shook his head.

"No."

Wolf hesitated, then asked, "Are you all right?"

" . . . no," Kuro admitted after a moment's silence.

Though Wolf sighed, it was more in concern and care than wariness. He opened his arms in invitation and Kuro gladly accepted the hug, hiding his face in Wolf's shoulder, and the shinobi leaned back against the railing as exhaustion seemed to crash into his body all at once like the waves buffeting the ship. How he wished he knew what all that had been about; perhaps when Kuro felt better, had stopped quivering like a leaf in his arms, Wolf could ask if he knew anything.

A throat cleared above him, and Wolf raised his weary head to send a weak glare Taniguchi's way. The captain raised his hands placatingly, but nonetheless said, "I think you trouble magnets owe us an explanation or two."

"We do," Wolf agreed tiredly. Taniguchi settled at the railing next to them, though looked outward rather than in, and toyed with the end of his braided beard for a few quiet moments before speaking again.

"Well," he murmured. "Talk."

So Wolf did. He omitted much, but the dragon had exposed at least his immortality, so that much he had to admit to. So he spoke of the dragon god, of its curse of immortality, of their journey to return it home, careful not to embellish or praise it in such way that any of the ship's crew might become too drawn to the legend. The way Taniguchi hummed at some skimmed parts told Wolf he knew the shinobi was leaving much out, but the captain did not push.

"We know the dragon came from the west," Wolf finished up, "so that is where we will go."

"The west?" Taniguchi repeated, eyebrows shooting upward, and Wolf quirked one of his own in quiet question. "You don't think - ?"

"What?" Kuro piped up, finally stirring from Wolf's embrace to turn tired but curious eyes on the captain. Taniguchi twirled the end of his braided beard between his fingers, thoughtful gaze glued to Kuro, and for a long moment Wolf wondered if he was not the only one to see the strange silhouette on his master's shoulders.

"D'you think, maybe . . . could your dragon god be the missing fourth king?"

"A missing king?"

Kuro was fully upright now, still kneeling quite close to Wolf but no longer leaning on him. Both of them turned curious gazes on Taniguchi, who sighed and reached into his coat. He pulled out a pipe and a set of matches, and they waited with nothing but the sound of the gentle waves lapping interrupting the tense quiet as Taniguchi lit the pipe and took a deep breath, expelling smoke.

"A long while back," he said, "the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas cast away their youngest brother, and since then the seasons in China have come to a halt. It's been many years . . . maybe two decades? Ever since, the mainland has been stuck in an endless summer."

"That is when the Dragon's Heritage came to Japan," Kuro breathed, eyes widening in realization. "And our homeland has been trapped in an eternal autumn ever since."

"The Western King presided over fall. It's sounding more and more like that's your dragon." Taniguchi took another drag on the pipe. "He cursed your lands, huh? Doesn't sound like him."

"How so?"

"He fought his brothers over showing too much love for humankind. The Kings protect the Chinese, but they also look down on them, and frowned upon the Western Dragon's frequent blessings of them."

"The Divine Child speculated that the dragon's blood was cursed because Ashina was not its homeland," Wolf muttered, and Kuro nodded thoughtfully.

"Perhaps he was always trying to reward our people," he mused, "but it became warped so far from home. Mr. Taniguchi?" The captain gave a noncommittal hum. "Do you know where the west sea is?"

Taniguchi shook his head. "All I've got for you is 'west,'" he replied apologetically. "Probably hard to miss, though. People say everything around it is dead, now, though no explanation as to why. I'm sure someone could point you on the right path once we get back to land." He exhaled more smoke, nearly invisible in the dark. "We've a few days left yet, though, so get comfy."

"Of course." Kuro finally stood, and Wolf immediately followed suit, finding himself quite unwilling to let Kuro leave his sight after the exciting events of the night. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir. I am sorry to cause you so much trouble."

"Can't be helped, I guess," Taniguchi sighed. "Couldn't get rid of you now unless I throw you overboard - now, Wolf, don't give me that look, it's a joke. Besides, I really don't feel like pissing off any more dragons today." His shoulders hunched as he turned distrusting eyes onto the waves. "Don't think I can sleep after all that mess."

"Sleep is probably a good idea." Kuro offered Taniguchi a bow before turning back to the stairs, and Wolf trailed obediently after him. "We should probably get some rest. Especially you, Wolf."

Much in the same tense boat as Taniguchi, Wolf was loathe to settle into one of the hammocks, and even more hesitant to sleep. But where Taniguchi seemed to find himself hypervigilant after the experience, Wolf was a fool running on only a nap, and exhaustion settled in his bones with every step. He sat with his back against one of the supports, watching Kuro squirm and shift and fidget to find a comfortable position. He did not envy the struggle.

At first he was determined to watch over Kuro's sleep, but once his master had grown still and his quiet breathing accompanied the soft sloshing of water against wood, Wolf found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Still he sat there for a long while before his resolve slipped away and he allowed his head to droop.

The rocking of the ship was still not entirely welcoming to him, so it took time before he drifted off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is it just me, or is everyone looking at us strangely?"
> 
> "We are foreigners, my Lord," Wolf pointed out. Kuro gave a little snort, lightly patting his shoulder.
> 
> "I think calling me that will just attract more unwanted attention," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the babies are on the mainland!
> 
> action this chapter, so be aware of the potential risks of that :))

After an exciting first day of their voyage, the Eastern King's blessing carried the ship through an uneventful two days at sea. The sun shone serenely down upon them as the sailors tried their best to get some socialization out of Wolf, and the nights were quiet and peaceful. Thrice a day Taniguchi had ginger tea ready for his grumpy passenger, and with each flask Wolf grew less wary of its contents. Kuro spent much of his time staring out at the water from either the railing or the highest lookout, trying to spot land, and the sailors grew quite fond of him, regaling all sorts of wild tales at his whim.

On the third morning, he had, and Wolf was roped into preparing as they approached what appeared to be a bustling little town. The sails were tied, the anchor ready to drop, and the sailors had the ship gracefully sliding into the harbor and settling at the end of a row of many more vessels. The sun hung high in the sky, and Wolf was glad to have chosen a hat for Kuro as it was much warmer here than it had been in Japan.

Once Kuro and Wolf found themselves on the bustling dock with unsteady legs from the days on the sea, Taniguchi hopped down after them, stopping Wolf with a hand on his shoulder before they could wander off. "Hold tight," he said, and jerked his thumb back to his crew, who were busying themselves with unloading all the crates from before. "Give us an hour to sell off some of this, and we can trade out some of that useless coin for stuff you can actually use here."

"You don't have to do that," Kuro said modestly, but Taniguchi shook his head wordlessly and ruffled the child's hair, heading back to help one of his men.

So they remained, Kuro leaning against one of the ropes that acted as a railing on the dock as he watched the men work, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to look out at the sparkling blue waves. With a quiet nudge from his master Wolf found himself assisting the crew. It spared quite the time, Wolf finding he could easily lift one crate himself where the sailors typically had to go two per box. With him helping, Taniguchi disappeared into the crowds of people, promising his quick return.

And he did, a few men trailing behind him, and with an exchange Wolf did not care to eavesdrop on there were two men taking a crate from his hands and another dropping a hefty coin purse into Taniguchi's own. Before an hour had even passed, Taniguchi was counting out his and Wolf's coin on the top of a wide barrel.

"Really, the copper here is worth a lot more," he said, and Wolf watched with a wary eye just how quickly the captain worked with money, prepared for him to attempt some slight of hand at any moment. "Your iron will probably be totally useless, and honestly, I shouldn't be giving you this much for the copper, but I know you'll have no use for won."

"You don't have to cut your profits for us," Kuro protested, but Taniguchi waved him off.

"Your journey is way more important than a couple dozen more coins," he scoffed. "Besides, transport pays well. I'll have plenty by the end of the night. I'm a lot more concerned with making sure the people returning our dragon can make the trip."

"Thank you," Wolf replied genuinely, giving Taniguchi pause before he swept the won into his own pockets and left the shinobi to gather the rest of the coins into a few small purses.

"It's the least I can do," the captain said, before turning serious eyes on him. "But in return, Wolf, you'd better keep that kid safe."

Kuro instantly cast a wary look his way, no doubt expecting Wolf to bristle or glare, but the concern in Taniguchi's voice was far greater than the threat and it was not something that fell on deaf ears. Instead, Wolf gave a short bow, placing his right fist over his heart.

"With my life," he promised.

Taniguchi nodded, clapped him on the shoulder, and turned away, and Wolf glanced down when Kuro tugged at his sleeve to see an approving little smile. An odd sense of pride welling in his chest, Wolf quietly tucked the money back into his hidden pockets, notably lighter but supposedly more valuable.

"You two head into town, now," Taniguchi said, glancing over his shoulder at them. "We'll be here overnight if you need anything, but you should really get going on your mission."

Kuro offered another polite bow, and Wolf followed suit. "Thank you for everything, Captain."

Taniguchi smiled then, something kinder and softer than his typical cheekiness, and he replied, "You're a good kid, Kuro. Be careful, and good luck."

* * *

They had only been free of the bustle of the pier for a few minutes when Kuro pulled Wolf to the side of a building, and the shinobi knelt down only for Kuro to whisper into his ear, "Is it just me, or is everyone looking at us strangely?"

"We are foreigners, my Lord," Wolf pointed out, though the weird stares and whispers behind hands were certainly putting him on edge. Kuro gave a little snort, lightly patting his shoulder.

"I think calling me that will just attract more unwanted attention," he said, and though the words had some truth to them Wolf did not have to like it. "Huddling here was probably also not the best idea to avoid weird looks."

Indeed, in the large market they were making their way through, buyers and sellers alike shot them strange glances, brows furrowed as they murmured to one another behind hands and ornate fans. It had also been a struggle to get anyone to speak to them for directions, as most simply gave them strange looks and gestured for other buyers to come closer.

They were foreigners, yes, but was this truly necessary? Surely some odd-looking clothes could not be this off-putting?

And then Kuro gasped, then made a frustrated noise, covering his face. "Oh, Wolf, I'm so stupid!"

"My Lord?"

"Of course we seem weird, we're not even speaking their language - oh, I didn't even get to finish studying Mandarin before . . . "

Kuro trailed off, and Wolf cut in before he could spend too long reminiscing on what had happened back then. "I am sure you will get in plenty of practice while we are here." Kuro peeked at him through his fingers before nodding hesitantly. "Do you remember enough to find us a room for the night?"

"Maybe?" Kuro replied, not sounding very sure of himself at all, and Wolf tried not to be discouraged by the answer. Instead, he stood, gesturing for Kuro to lead the way.

"Then let us find someone who can help."

With another nod, Kuro's hands slipped from his face, and after a tentative pause he reached for Wolf's hand. It was a silent request, one that Wolf accepted easily. Kuro seemed to relax immensely at the reassuring touch. He led Wolf away from the shop they'd been settled against, and the shade it had granted them gave way once more to the hot sun. They headed toward the nearest market stall, and Wolf followed obediently, glad to see Kuro determined once more.

It turned to shyness quite quickly, however, when the merchant peered warily up at Wolf. He seemed to be a baker, and though Wolf's traitorous nose caught a whiff of something smelling sweetly of strawberry and his stomach reminded him they had not eaten for several hours, he determinedly kept his attention on his master and the merchant before him.

Kuro stuttered out something that sounded like a greeting, and the baker's eyebrows lifted as his gaze lowered to the child's level. A few more words spilled clumsily from his lips, Kuro fumbling heavily with the foreign language, and it was a strange sound when he was usually so eloquent with their own. But the baker's wary gaze softened into something sympathetic, and slowly he relayed something back, accompanied by a few gestures and a point down the road.

"Down the way he pointed," Kuro relayed back to Wolf, "and to the left is an inn. I didn't get it all, but that's the gist." Wolf nodded and turned as though to leave, but Kuro stopped him with a hand on his sleeve, his attention turned to the display of sweets.

The strawberry pastries Wolf had been eyeing before.

Kuro opened his mouth, paused, and then tried a couple more words, to which the merchant gave a short answer, and before Wolf could stop him Kuro was reaching into the shinobi's pocket for one of the coin purses to hand a copper to the baker. After inspecting it closely, the baker took two of the strawberry pastries, wrapped them in a delicate paper, and offered them both to Kuro, who said something that Wolf assumed was thanks.

"Now we can go," Kuro said brightly, handing one of them to Wolf. "Here! I figured we could use a snack, and I know you like sweets."

Feeling very exposed by such a simple statement, Wolf accepted the sweet with as much reluctance as he could fake. Already the flaky bread and strawberry scent was calling to him. "My thanks," was all he could manage without sounding too eager or even scolding Kuro for the purchase, but the knowing grin his master shot him showed how very transparent he was nonetheless.

"Well? Go on, then - and don't say you're not hungry!"

His planned escape stolen away, Wolf took a bite out of the pastry, and as he had anticipated, reveled in the sugar-laden strawberry filling and adored the light breading. Kuro let out a soft giggle, satisfied, and tore pieces off his own as they made their way down the street.

The inn was not far, and the sun was beginning to fall, thankfully meaning the temperature was lowering with it. Though Wolf could not read the characters on the sign, Kuro's knowledge and the simple layout of the building made it more than clear. Their pastries finished, they nodded to one another, braced themselves, and Wolf pushed the door open.

Inside was quite noisy, though cozy. There was quite the large common room, with a roaring fire in the hearth, and many people inside chatted and drank something that smelled alcoholic and sat at low tables. Many glanced their way as the open door came with a bell chiming, but most looked away just as quickly, likely used to travelers coming through the inn.

Just in front of the door was a portly woman manning a counter, and hesitantly the two of them approached. Kuro started to speak, fumbling less than before but hesitant with words he clearly did not know, and the woman gave them a once-over with a raised brow before saying in accented Japanese, "You're not from around here, huh?"

The way she spoke it was quite informal, no doubt learned from the sailors in the port, though Kuro seemed so incredibly grateful just to hear she knew it that he did not even hesitate to reply. "Oh, good," he sighed, relaxing. "I didn't think anyone here could understand us."

"You're on the coast," she pointed out. "Lots of people around here speak two or three languages, it just comes with the territory. Now, something I can do for you?"

"We just need a room for the night," Kuro replied politely.

The woman went to writing something down in the large book in front of her, still talking, as Kuro glanced over his shoulder to survey the room. Something curiously longing settled in his gaze, and with a pang Wolf realized he had never seen so many people in one place outside of war since the loss of his clan.

"Strong silent type, huh?" the innkeeper asked, and both boys turned startled eyes on her. "Let your kid do all the talking?"

Wolf could only stare for a long moment at the way she had unknowingly exposed them, his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth when he finally replied, "He knows the language. And . . . he is not mine."

She barked out a laugh. "Well, that's not suspicious at all. You sound like you kidnapped him. Now, now," she continued when Kuro let out a noise of protest and Wolf frowned, "I don't actually think that. You two are just a curious set."

Were all innkeepers so nosy? Wolf was not sure he wanted to deal with this the entire time they were on their journey.

"We - we would very much like to get to our room now," Kuro stammered, and with another laugh the woman stepped out from behind the counter and led them toward a set of stairs.

"Right, then, follow me."

Up the stairs they went, and as they did the bustle of the first floor faded into a low murmur. They followed the innkeeper through a hall and stopped before the fourth door, and she let them in and pressed a key into Wolf's hand before telling them to let her know if they needed anything. The door swung shut behind her as she left, and then they were alone in the small room.

There were two low platforms made of clay, assumedly the beds, and under them something like a stove. Kuro knelt down to inspect one, and when he drew a finger across its surface dust came off. "I guess to heat the beds," he said, "though I assume they don't get much use when it's so hot."

At the foot of each bed was a stack of thick quilts, ornately woven, and as Wolf began to shrug the pack off his shoulders and set his swords aside, Kuro started to make the beds for them. Once they were settled they shared another meal of fresh fruit and bread, though Wolf briefly protested the wasted food as Kuro scolded that sugar was hardly a meal.

It was already growing dark, the small oil lamp between the beds casting far more light on the room than the fading rays of the sun through the window. Though the day had been far less strain on them than the ones before, sleeping early was essential for rising early. They would want to wake and leave before the sun rose to avoid the heat for as long as possible. Besides, Wolf was admittedly feeling quite faint from the heat, and was eager to sleep it off.

So Kuro settled on his bed when he was finished with his food, facing Wolf. The tanuki fur coat folded under his head served as a pillow, and he offered his shinobi a soft smile. "Good night, Wolf."

"Good night, my Lord," Wolf replied automatically, and Kuro's eyes slid shut.

For a few minutes, as Wolf watched the lights go out in town from the window, he considered staying awake to keep his master safe; after the last time his sleeplessness had bitten him back, however, he reluctantly opted for rest. Besides, he would notice someone trying to break through the locked door, and his limbs still felt weak from the faintness plaguing him.

So Wolf settled down as well, the quilts providing plenty of padding for the otherwise hard bed, and forced himself to drift off with unsurprising difficulty.

* * *

More than once Wolf awoke uncomfortably sweating, and judging by the rather gaunt look Kuro bore the next morning, he had experienced much of the same. Night had not been much cooler than day and they were certainly feeling the summer's effects already.

The innkeeper was awake when they had finished gathering their belongings and headed down the stairs, though she looked near-death for how tired she seemed. She accepted the key back from Wolf, waving them off sleepily, and quietly they slipped through the door and started down the cobbled street. There was only one main road out of town, and very few people to glance their way or give them skeptical looks.

Kuro's hand was small and delicate in his, and the young heir rubbed sleepily at his eyes every few minutes with his free hand as they trekked out of town. Fading stars still shone in the slowly lightening purple sky, and as they grew free of the buildings Wolf quickly located the North star to gain his bearings. The road out of town seemed to move primarily westward through plains that stretched out as far as the eye could see, and they counted their blessings that this much would go well.

It was warm, and Wolf still felt weak, though he attributed it to his layers as his skin protested that the temperature was not quite high enough to be feeling any adverse effects. Kuro had even shed the outer layer of his kimono, which wound up bundled in the pack and left him in a simple white one. But Wolf was feeling better than the night before, and decided he would be fine so long as he remained hydrated.

They walked in silence for the first hour or so as Kuro struggled to wake himself up, then with small conversation as the young Lord wondered aloud about the things and people they might find on their journey. Some discussion was had about finding a map if possible, or perhaps a guide, and as the sun began to peek over the horizon Kuro donned his hat and Wolf prepared for the inevitable heat. Their conversation faded once more at its arrival, neither feeling quite up to talking with the sun bearing down upon them.

The road was fairly quiet, though even despite the early hours they encountered more than one person traveling in the opposite direction. Most seemed to be merchants, and all had at least one bodyguard with them, typically multiple. Some ignored them or gave the duo strange or skeptical looks, but for the most part they were friendly, especially offering smiles and friendly pats to Kuro's head or even offering him sweets to fill his pockets.

It was one of these merchants that they stopped to shelter and speak with under the shade of a leafy green tree, Wolf unwrapping one of the round hard candies Kuro offered him and popping it into his mouth. Birds chirped noisily in the branches overhead, loud enough he had to strain to hear the conversation. The sun was absolutely cruel in its heat, unbearably sweltering, and the elderly merchant they spoke to wiped his brow with a cloth every few minutes.

Kuro listened quite intently to the man as Wolf kept watch, always listening but never understanding the words. The merchant's two bodyguards shot him mistrustful looks the entire time rather than keep an eye out, and idly Wolf worried the kindly old man would suffer with such easily distracted swords at his back.

His attention was diverted when Kuro made a shocked noise, and Wolf glanced back to see him patting the old merchant's hand sympathetically. The brief look he shot at his shinobi was one that promised important discussion, and true to that promise Kuro wrapped up the conversation quickly as Wolf approached and offered the elder a polite bow, which Wolf mimicked.

As the merchant began to prepare for the next stretch of his journey, Kuro began to lead the way onward on theirs, and slipped back into Japanese once they were out of earshot. "He says there is a village about an hour up the way," he relayed, sounding troubled, "but that highwaymen have set up a roadblock before it and are shaking travelers down. He even offered me money to make sure we get through unscathed."

"How kind of him," Wolf replied distantly, already on high alert. If there was a threat incoming, he did not want to be caught unaware. "I will ensure we get through unscathed."

Kuro worried at his bottom lip. "Maybe we should do something about it?" he suggested, and Wolf spared him a curious glance. "I hate to think of them preying on innocent people. If you got rid of them . . . "

His Lord had always had a big heart. Wolf was sure he could wipe out a group of street thugs with little issue were he alone, but with Kuro tagging along, he was less inclined to leap headfirst into danger, and now that they were in China Wolf wondered how much of the dragon's power had come with them. Would it be wise to push his resurrective abilities so far from the source, and were he to push them too far, who would suffer?

Cautiously, he replied, "We can decide when we see the level of threat they pose," and Kuro nodded in satisfaction at his answer. Were there only a handful, Wolf would dispatch them with ease, but if they were any sort of organized, he could not promise his success.

Their continued walk was silent, neither of them feeling very talkative after the news. Instead apprehension oozed from Kuro, and Wolf moved on his toes, prepared to leap into action despite knowing fully well the threat was not one that would creep up on him. The sun's harsh heat only increased the tension and discomfort between them.

And then, inevitably, perhaps half an hour's walk from the tree they'd sheltered under, Wolf spotted them.

Mere specks far ahead of them, it was not until they drew closer that Wolf could pick out the silhouettes of a dozen, perhaps two dozen men, and the wooden carts that blocked the path. Smaller shapes moved next to them, and it took Wolf a few more meters to figure out they were dogs. Extremely weak to his blade, but troublesome nonetheless, and especially dangerous to his Lord. He shuddered to think what would happen if they got ahold of the fragile child.

But they need not fight. The bandits would ask for money, and the two of them would move on after paying the fee. Simple. It was a waste, but they could afford the cut to their budget. It was a small price to pay for the lack of trouble.

So when they approached the stop and the bandits and their mutts closed their escape off behind them, and an assumed leader hopped down from one of the carts with a grin on his face, and Kuro pressed so close to his side Wolf could feel him trembling, he did not so much as touch his sword. Instead, he watched the movement of the bandits around them, circling, waiting, ready to strike. No doubt they had been at this all day, antsy in the heat, and their hounds were thirsty for blood.

The man began to speak, and of course, of _course,_ Wolf had not even considered that they would not speak the same language, too concerned with the thought of battle. Kuro stuttered something out in reply and, not faltering, the man fired back in a rough bark.

"He says toll is high," Kuro forced out, voice feeble.

"So name it," Wolf snapped, agitation growing as the conversation drew on. Too much talking meant not-so-simple negotiations, and he considered pushing Kuro behind him, but decided having his master in view would be a much wiser option. "We'll pay."

The leader tutted, drawing closer, and Wolf's hand laid protectively on Kuro's shoulder. He spoke in Mandarin, and Wolf remained silent, still, as the bandit circled him.

"Two swords," Kuro repeated. "He says . . . you don't need them both."

Wolf laid his other hand on Kusabimaru's hilt, gritting his teeth and considering killing the man even if they could get out of the situation without a scuffle. "No," he denied, and the bandit scoffed, the response so clear Kuro needn't even translate.

"No - the pretty one."

The Mortal Blade?

Wolf had not even considered that the bandit could mean that one, as he hardly bothered to use it himself. It was Kusabimaru that he carefully maintained, that he relied on almost daily, that fit in his hand like it belonged, and thus it was Kusabimaru that he automatically - perhaps absurdly - assumed anyone would want. But this highwayman, this _fool,_ wanted the Mortal Blade, and Wolf could almost laugh at the sheer silliness of the idea.

But perhaps he would entertain it nonetheless. This fool would pay for his greed.

Slowly, to show he meant no harm, Wolf reached up and behind him to remove the scabbard from his back. The pretty one, indeed; with it behind him at all times, Wolf had easily forgotten the ornate designs covering the hilt and sheath. He presented it delicately to the highwayman, who looked upon it with greedy eyes and snatched it quickly from him.

"We may safely pass?" Wolf asked, Kuro translating in a quivering voice, and the bandit nodded idly, not taking his eyes from the sword.

Careful not to move too quickly to draw suspicion, Wolf drew away from the circle of men and growling dogs that sniffed too close at Kuro's heels. His head was light after the experience, almost concerningly so, and he attributed it to a mix of the heat and the anxiety of getting his master out safe from a dangerous experience. But they were not in the clear yet, so Wolf removed a tanto from one of his shin guards and discretely offered it to Kuro once they were behind one of the wagons.

"Hopefully you will not need this," he murmured, "but we cannot be too careful."

Kuro nodded, eyes huge as his fingers closed clumsily around its hilt, and as if on cue a choked noise sounded out behind them, a series of shouts and frenzied howling following the muted thud of a body hitting the dirt. Grunting, Wolf hoisted Kuro into the empty cart and hopefully out of harm's way, then slipped back between them to face the chaos.

The Mortal Blade had only been cracked from its sheath, the dull red of it pulsing faintly, but it had already claimed its victim. Wolf imagined he must have looked much like the bandit once before, crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, but unlike the shinobi this man would not come back from death. Attention turned to him as he rejoined the fray, angry shouts that were no doubt demands and insults being hurled his direction.

Wolf drew Kusabimaru, so familiar in his hand. He would not need the Mortal Blade for this.

The narrow space between the carts acted as quite the useful choke point, and Wolf all but forgot his dizziness as man and mutt alike were cut down easily under his blade. Concern nagged at him, though, the way the dogs seemed more hardy and fierce than the ones back in Ashina, as well as more coordinated - they had never seemed to work as a pack when he fought them before.

Unable to dwell on how a bunch of common bandits had managed to tame and weaponize canines far better than Ashina's troops ever hoped to, Wolf was not prepared for the almost _practiced_ way one lunged for him as he fended off a rather bulky highwayman, thankfully one of the last. The man's swings were powerful but slow, so the fluid teamup was unexpected at best.

Wolf stopped the beast from doing any bodily harm with his prosthetic jammed into its mouth, but with a sickening crunching noise that proved to be a terrible idea.

The dog's powerful jaws had nearly broken the bone in half.

Wolf dispatched the bandit with a near-beheading, not even hesitating to slaughter the mutt still latched onto him with a sword sliding through its ribcage. It hardly had the chance to get a gurgle out before he was tossing it back into the dirt and watching its death throes with a critical eye.

Typically Wolf felt guilt for hurting animals, even pitied them for being under such cruel masters that used them to fight, but when he inspected the horrible splintering of the main support on his prosthetic all that sympathy melted into fury at the beast. Was it truly his fate that he would lose his arm _again?_ This was not the time to face this sort of hardship, and even were the journey back home not so arduous, the Sculptor was no longer around to fix it for him.

There was still one bandit left, and with burning anger coiling in his gut, Wolf approached him. The dog's masters would pay for the second loss of his limb. The man cowered before him, tripping over his feet and landing in the dirt, and even if Wolf could understand the pleas spilling from his lips he would not hear them over the roar in his ears. The terror in his eyes meant nothing; he would pay the price of Wolf's arm in blood.

And then an intense wave of dizziness stronger than any before came over him, the shinobi wavering on his feet before he toppled over to his knees. Kusabimaru digging into the dirt was the only thing keeping him upright, and through fuzzy vision Wolf watched the only survivor scramble away from the bloody scene in a full sprint.

"Wolf!"

Kuro was unharmed, though Wolf could hardly feel any relief past the pulsing of a newfound headache. What was wrong with him? Gritting his teeth, he brought his prosthetic arm up to inspect, and processed Kuro kneeling before him as he did.

"Oh, Wolf," Kuro whispered, so solemn, so very pitying, and it made everything excruciatingly real. "Your arm . . . "

His arm was broken. Lost again, for all it mattered. He could move it, but that was all, for surely if any pressure were placed on it the bone would snap completely in two. It was little more than a glorified stick attached to his limb now.

"I'm sure it can be repaired," Kuro tried, taking the hand of it gently in his and patting it as though Wolf could somehow feel the attempt at reassurance. "If Dogen could make it, surely there are other brilliant minds capable of building from his work."

As if they would be lucky enough to find such a person. The mainland was massive, that much Wolf knew, far larger than Ashina could have ever hoped to be, and the settlements they stumbled upon were all filled with lower class citizens that had their hands tied up with earning their keep. The odds they would find not only a doctor, but one that knew anything about false limbs, were so slim that Wolf did not dare think on it a moment longer.

"Are you alright?" Kuro continued when he did not respond. "You collapsed . . . "

"I may be ill," Wolf replied quietly. "Most likely from the heat."

"Maybe you should remove a few layers," Kuro suggested, concern visible in his frown and furrowed brow, but Wolf was done with talk. He pushed himself to his feet with Kusabimaru as support and, after waiting for a fresh wave of dizziness to dissipate, pulled his sword from the ground and sheathed it.

"We should move on. The village should not be far."

"Wolf," Kuro protested, but he did not want to hear it. Kuro would only push, would fret over him and his mysterious illness and his damaged arm, and Wolf wanted nothing to do with it. He was not interested in dwelling - not until the anger at his own failure and shock at the loss had faded somewhat.

So he started to walk, and after a moment of pause, Kuro followed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No one here will cause you trouble. Well," he amended, shooting a lighthearted glare at the two men from before, "no one else."
> 
> "Well, Wolf?" Kuro prompted.
> 
> "We will stay," was all he replied.

Wolf had not spoken a word since the fight.

Wolf was typically quiet, yes, but this silence was as tense as the shinobi's posture and frustration rolled from him like waves. Paired with how surprisingly talkative Wolf had been during the trip thus far, the silence may as well have been an infuriated tirade. Kuro was sure if he pushed that Wolf would snap at him, so he kept his mouth firmly shut.

He was stressed, too, but he was not the one to lose a limb, so though he stared longingly at Wolf's empty hand he decided not to push his luck in asking to hold it. Kuro was a growing boy that could handle walking independently for a while, however lonely he felt while Wolf was lost in his own thoughts.

Their destination was only a short walk from the scene of the slaughter, but it felt like hours they spent still on the road before they were finally stumbling upon the village. It was quite small, made up of perhaps a dozen huts, though off to its south side was a population of small tents poking up from the tall grass, as large as the village itself. Curiosity had Kuro staring, but Wolf's brisk pace kept him on the path and obediently following his shinobi into the settlement.

Though small, its occupants were quite active; a pair of older women chatted to their left as they hung up clothes to dry on a line between homes, and on their right a pair of small children sprinted past them, giggling in their game of chase. Kuro startled, stumbling into Wolf in his effort to get out of their way, and as the shinobi steadied him with an idle hand, a girl probably around Kuro's age stormed after them.

Their eyes met as she passed, and her irritated scowl morphed into something inquisitive yet mistrustful. He watched her join the other children, who were running circles around a well, and her voice rose in annoyance and authority.

"Come on, let's go - you know you have chores to finish!"

A few words were missing from Kuro's understanding, but he got the general gist of a whining argument as the assumed siblings went back and forth.

"Stop making a scene, there's . . . !" Then a word he didn't know, but the way the eldest sister glanced their way made it very clear what she was saying.

The children with her looked as though they had just spotted the strangers, eyes growing huge and mouths snapping shut, and each of them meekly took one of the girl's hands. Suddenly, where there was once irritation, they now clearly looked to her for some kind of reassurance, as the oldest hurried them right past Kuro and Wolf again to usher them inside one of the houses. Not once did their hands separate, the younger two holding on like their lives depended on it.

Kuro glanced to Wolf. The shinobi's hand was busy subconsciously holding the damaged forearm of his prosthetic, so Kuro buried his own hands determinedly into his kimono sleeves and did his best to usher the image of the siblings from his mind.

Wolf had other things to worry about.

"There is no inn here." The shinobi's curt voice interrupted his thoughts. "Nor a smith. We should move on."

"Wait," Kuro protested. He reached out to tug at Wolf's haori, but thought better of it, returning his hands to his sleeves before Wolf even spotted the gesture. "We've been through a lot today, and we don't even know how far the next village is. And didn't you say you weren't feeling well? Let's see if we can rest in that campground."

"Lord Kuro," Wolf started, speaking in a polite tone that sounded very much like Kuro was testing his patience, but Kuro was already heading back south toward the tents.

"We can get an early start tomorrow to make up for it," he promised, and though Wolf did not seem mollified by it, he followed nonetheless.

But as they headed into the encampment, surrounding themselves with tents and tough-looking armor-clad men drinking and shining their blades, Kuro found he very much did not want to lead. Here in this vast land where everything was strange and new, Wolf had been the one in front. With Kuro always one step behind, he had felt safe.

Yet with Wolf clutching his prosthetic arm as though he could feel the damage and glaring warily about the clearing, Kuro realized that not only was his shinobi angry with himself, but his Wolf was _injured._ And that was not even considering the strange illness Wolf admitted to suffering. How well would Wolf be able to protect him in this state? Would he even be capable of it?

Despite their weapons, however, the men seemed quite indifferent at their presence. It came as quite the relief. It did not, however, change the fact that Kuro would have to speak to one of them soon, and who knew if they would stay neutral? And what would they say about allowing two complete strangers to make camp nearby, especially when one was so heavily armed?

It seemed that Kuro would not have to find the words to spark conversation; to their left, a man's eye caught and zeroed in on Wolf, and suddenly reached out toward him, speaking excitedly to the man beside him.

"Whoah, his arm! Look, it's like Kang's leg - "

Fast as lightning, Wolf whipped his prosthetic from his reach, and his right hand snatched up the man's wrist. Hostility leeched tangibly from the shinobi as the man grunted, startled and probably in pain at the grip, and Kuro's heart sped at the prospect that Wolf had perceived a threat that he could take out his anger on. Then what? Would the entire encampment turn on him?

Before Wolf or his victim could act or even speak, the man that had been seated next to the first was rising, annoyance in his tone as he delivered a none-too-gentle punch to his friend's bicep. "What kind of dumbass lunges at a warrior like that? Tell him you're sorry!"

"Fine, okay, whatever!" the other complained, only to get tugged into a chokehold.

"Whatever _what?"_

"Sorry, sorry, let go of me, already!"

He had been speaking to his friend, but Wolf had yet to release his wrist. "Wolf," Kuro prompted quietly, and the shinobi gave his master a long, hard look before reluctantly letting go.

The way the campfire danced in his eyes had a spark of anxiety rippling up Kuro's spine, but he determinedly forced it down.

"You've seen something like Wolf's . . . " Kuro paused, mulled over his words for a satisfactory replacement, curiosity overtaking any prior concern he'd had about the strangers. The way Wolf's fingers twitched at his side showed he did not feel the same. "Fake arm?"

Both men paused in their tussle to blink at him, before the first to speak slapped his forehead. "Oh, man, we're dumb - "

"Speak for yourself - "

"Hey, Da!" It was called across the clearing, and an older man sharpening his blade glanced up at them. "You know Japanese, right?"

"I know a little Mandarin," Kuro protested, but the men before him waved him off as the newcomer - Da - made his way over.

Wolf's prosthetic settled on the hilt of his katana, anticipation clearly growing at the proximity of so many armed strangers, and Kuro wished he had the nerve to take Wolf's hand to calm him. Several others cast them curious looks, but none approached, for which Kuro was grateful; they were likely smarter than to make someone as dangerous-looking as Wolf feel cornered, whatever their intentions.

"No need, little one," Da said, crouching to Kuro's level, though it was accompanied by the pop of one knee and a grimace. Kuro stifled the noise of protest in his throat. "I am fluent." He turned his gaze up to Wolf, blinking at the glare pointed at him but not faltering. "What brings you here?"

Wolf's silence stretched on far too long before he averted his gaze pointedly, and Kuro barely withheld a sigh. His shinobi was standoffish enough on the regular. "I'm sorry for him," he said, not for the first time, and likely not the last, either. Da's gaze returned to him, surprise in his raised eyebrows. "We have been through much. We came hoping to share the campground with you all, though those two mentioned a Kang with a false leg . . . ?"

His voice was hopeful, and Da glanced up to Wolf's prosthetic. A flash of sympathy crossed his features at the sight of the damage before he spoke, once again pointedly to the shinobi. "Yes, Kang has a prosthetic much like yours. I don't know much about it, but perhaps he may be able to help you."

"And staying for the night?"

"No one here will cause you trouble. Well," he amended, shooting a lighthearted glare at the two men from before, "no one else."

"Well, Wolf?" Kuro prompted.

"We will stay," was all he replied, and Kuro's heart sank when his shinobi did not even look at him.

"There's a free spot that way to set up," Da offered, pointing. He finally rose to his feet with a sigh and another few pops, testament to his age and years of fighting, and called across the campground in Chinese. "Kang! Come speak with us!" He paused, then glanced back to Wolf. "Wolf, and - what is the little one's name?"

Kuro watched the way Wolf worked his jaw, clearly equally as irate as his master that everyone insisted on speaking to him instead of the Divine Heir. But he humored Da, curtly answering, "Kuro."

Kuro almost wished he hadn't. Wolf had always spoken his name so softly, full of care; now it was ground out with the same venom as every other word he had spoken since the incident. Kuro quickly averted his gaze from the shinobi, guilt bubbling up in his chest. Perhaps Wolf blamed him for what had happened. It would explain the way Wolf refused to speak to even his master, would not even look at him half the time. Was he resentful not toward the incident alone, but toward Kuro that it had happened?

After all, it had only occurred because he was protecting his master. The same was true when he had lost his original arm. Kuro had brought nothing to Wolf's life but loss, it seemed.

Kang was there before Kuro could dwell on it much longer, a surprisingly young man with many scars peeking out from his clothing and armor. His right leg ended below the knee, and attached to the residual limb was a prosthetic much like Wolf's. Unlike Wolf's, however, which was pieced together with whatever scrap could be found, this one was lovingly crafted with sculpted wood and polished metal. Straps that Kuro assumed were supports ran up his leg and under his clothing, and the leg ended in a clunky-looking foot that seemed to more closely imitate a shoe.

"Hello," Kang offered uncertainly, and Kuro realized he was staring. Da translated when he continued, "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Your leg."

Kang frowned at the bluntness, but Wolf's voice was softer than it had been all day, his tone gentler toward this man than any of the strangers they had met from the start of their journey, and when Kang caught sight of the arm Wolf delicately cradled his features softened. He held out his hand.

"May I?" he asked, and Kuro watched in awe as Wolf, who had been standoffish toward everyone they met since they left Ashina, offered his prosthetic hand in return. Wolf, who did not trust a single soul that crossed paths with them, always ready for a fight, was now exposing his vulnerability so easily.

"It is in poor condition," he warned, fingers twitching instinctively away from touch when the other man tried to reach for them, and Kang offered a sympathetic look.

"I will be gentle," he promised, and incredibly, Wolf believed him.

Kang's fascination was obvious as he inspected Wolf's prosthetic, curiously curling the fingers and inspecting the worn reel of twine and harpoon Wolf used to swing himself about, and asking the shinobi if he could truly move his elbow and fingers. He seemed totally shocked by the notion, earning surprise from both Kuro and Wolf.

"Does your leg not move as your real one does?" the latter asked with a raised brow.

"There is an ankle joint," Kang answered, releasing Wolf's prosthetic and raising his leg to demonstrate. He rolled the false foot with his hand. "It's stiff, to prevent it collapsing, though I still need to be careful how I place my weight. I can't command it to move."

"I cannot imagine," Wolf said honestly.

The openness with which he spoke to Kang had something akin to envy rising in Kuro, and he crossed his arms self-consciously. After silently fighting Kuro all day, here he was, foul mood seemingly all but forgotten, chatting up a storm compared to his usual, and with a stranger no less! He - he knew it meant something to Wolf, meeting someone like himself, but Kuro still . . .

"Sometimes I swear I can feel it, though," Kang said, catching Kuro's attention. "When I hit it against something, or even when I take it off. It's like the flesh is still there. Is that just me?"

"Sometimes," Wolf echoed, and his real hand returned to his prosthetic, thumbing over where the dog had bitten it. "Not usually, but on occasion. Not always pain, but . . . "

But often enough, Kuro thought, if it was enough to mention. Kang nodded in understanding.

"I was gifted mine by a hermit of an inventor, whose home sits atop a cliff perhaps three days' walk from here," Kang explained, not pushing. He glanced to Da, a question in his tone when he spoke again, and instead of translating Da shrugged, then nodded, and Kang returned his attention to Wolf. "I am sure we can take you."

"Your entire company?" Wolf asked, and Kuro rather agreed with the sentiment.

"We can take directions," he threw in hurriedly. He did not want to be any trouble, and suddenly wondered whose permission would even be needed to do so. Who even led this band of men? Were all of them together? Who were they, even, exactly?

"Not to insinuate you need protection," Da jumped in, eyeing the sword at Wolf's hip, "you seem like a formidable man, but you sure don't look up to a fight with your arm like that, and we've just finished a job anyway. We have the time and coin for an errand on the side."

And Wolf, who had been loathe to accept any help thus far, who had fought companionship and even resisted approaching these men when Kuro suggested it, bowed and replied, "Then we would be grateful for your help."

Were it any other scenario, Kuro would be pleased to hear his shinobi comfortable enough to speak for both of them. Now, it only felt he was acting without care for Kuro's counsel, and he felt the pout forming on his lips even as he tried to fight it off. First protesting Kuro's ideas, now acting against his wishes - where was the loyal Wolf that cared deeply for his master's input?

Guilt sparked at the thought. He had never wanted to control Wolf, or come across like his shinobi had no free will, but then their intentions had always been aligned. Was this how he wanted to act the moment they felt differently about something? He just . . .

"My Lord."

Kuro startled, his gaze rising from the ground - where he had not even realized it had fallen - up to Wolf's face. Kuro's feelings must have been laid bare on his features still, for something guilty flickered across Wolf's own before he gestured toward the open spot they had been shown before. An unspoken prompt, almost a request, and Kuro nodded quietly, following Wolf to the small clearing to set up their own bedrolls. From the corner of his eye Kuro watched Da and Kang settle by the large fire in the center of camp, joining a few other men conversing there.

"Something ails you," Wolf spoke into the smothering silence between them as he shed their pack from his back. Kuro shook his head, bringing his hands up to clasp his elbows, holding himself for some semblance of self-assurance.

"It's silly - don't worry about it." Wolf's nearly perpetual frown only deepened at that, and Kuro hastily changed subjects. "What about you? I know it's difficult, after . . . your arm."

Wolf's brow creased, and Kuro knew it had nothing to do with his prosthetic. He opened his mouth in the start of a protest. "Lord Kuro - "

He was interrupted by the inquisitive call of a man they had not met yet, peering from around one of the tents next to him with his brow raised.

Kuro only picked up a few words. "Do you not have - ?" A word he did not recognize. The man turned his head to someone presumably behind him. "Do we have any more . . . ?"

There was the sound of someone else speaking - "I'll look," Kuro thought he heard - and then before Kuro and Wolf even had the time to shoot each other baffled glances the first man was back and tossing a large, thick bundle of _something_ at Wolf. "Here," he said, then repeated the word Kuro didn't know.

"A tent," Wolf supplied, unraveling the bundle to reveal a large leathery canvas, along with thick cords of twine and some sturdy metal rods.

"Tent," Kuro repeated tentatively in Mandarin, and the man before him nodded.

"Tent," he echoed affirmatively. "Keep it."

"Thank you," Kuro said genuinely, and the man answered his beam with a kind smile before disappearing back into his own tent. Slipping back into Japanese, he turned back to Wolf. "That was very kind of them."

Wolf was already occupying himself with setting their things aside so he could set up the tent. His back was turned, but it did not soften the blow of his words when he spoke again.

"You are avoiding me."

The words bit into Kuro's heart like a strike to his flesh, accusatory even as Wolf's tone said he did not intend to make them so. Before he could think, could stop himself, Kuro snapped back, "Like you have been avoiding me?"

Wolf's hands stilled as Kuro covered his mouth, startled by his own venom. The flash of anger disappeared just as quickly as it had come, and instead more guilt overcame him. It only deepened when Wolf turned slowly to him and lowered to a kneel, bowing his head, the regret in Kuro's heart growing sickeningly.

"I deeply apologize." It was so soft, so agonizingly genuine, Wolf's words dripping with remorse, and Kuro could hardly bear to listen as he continued. "It is as you said - it has been difficult to come to terms with my failure. It does not excuse my behavior toward you. Whatever punishment you deem necessary - "

"Stop," Kuro interrupted desperately, the sick feeling rising until it made him dizzy. "Wolf, please. You were . . . you've been grieving, and it's selfish of me to expect you to take it well."

"Yet I hurt you in the process," Wolf said, brow furrowing.

"Yes, but . . . " Kuro hesitated, wringing his hands, then blurted, "Goodness, Wolf, can't I be upset without you acting like you need to repent? It was hard on us both, and we're both taking it poorly, so stop acting like - like you're beneath me for coping however you need to!"

"It still upset you," Wolf protested, yet his voice was still low where Kuro's rose with frustration. He wished he could stay as calm as his shinobi, but the confusing mass of emotions in his chest refused to allow it. "I . . . wish to fix it somehow. I did not want to lash out at you, yet my behavior caused you grief regardless."

"Of course it did," Kuro relented, and confessing it was a breath of fresh air, his shoulders sagging. "It sounds so petulant when I admit that being ignored hurts, doesn't it? I feel so silly. And then I feel like a spoiled brat, just confessing how much I hate seeing you make decisions for me. And I-I don't mean to throw my authority around, Wolf, I really don't," he added, the defensiveness for his own sake, for he knew Wolf would never accuse him. "I-I just - you didn't even ask me. After ignoring me all that time . . . "

"I was overeager," Wolf agreed solemnly. Somehow even quieter, he continued, "I knew you would agree, and was too impulsive to ask your opinion regardless. I am sure you will not hear my excuses for my prior behavior. Just know that I am sorry."

His shinobi still knelt before him, so Kuro knelt as well, growing weary of the way Wolf refused to meet his eye. It was reminiscent of when their bond was still new, when Wolf was only ever stoic and took his job far too seriously for young Kuro's comfort. To see Wolf revert like this only felt more isolating. "What upset me most was that you wouldn't speak to me," Kuro said gently. "I will not force you if you don't want to talk about it, but if you're willing, I will gladly listen."

Wolf was silent in the face of the offer, long enough so that Kuro thought it was a refusal, especially when the man finally stood and returned to setting up the tent. Unable to help a small sigh, Kuro reached for their bag, assuming the conversation over, and dug around for the night's dinner. It would be too much to ask Wolf be upfront with him, of course. It was enough work to make Wolf think of himself at all, and now the shinobi was likely thinking that was a mistake. That was Kuro's fault, too.

And then Wolf said quietly, "I was afraid."

Kuro faltered. Wolf's hands moved mechanically, favoring his left, as he put the tent together in a familiar process, his back to his master. It was a way of hiding, Kuro knew, so he was gentle when he asked, "You . . . were?"

"No," Wolf clarified, shaking his head, "that is not right. I still am."

"It's all right to be afraid, Wolf," Kuro said honestly, and Wolf shook his head again.

"I know." Wolf paused, reached for an iron stake to prop up their new shelter. "It does not make it any easier."

"I understand." And he did. It was much like his own hurt; despite knowing Wolf had a right to be upset, it did not make Kuro feel any better. Feelings and knowledge were contradictory like that. "What do you fear?"

"Many things," Wolf replied, "but most prominently?" Kuro nodded, though Wolf could not see it. "Incompetence. Without the prosthetic, I am useless to you once more."

"That's not true!" Kuro immediately protested, indignant despite himself. "To say nothing of the fact that I'm sure you can still take on threats with only one arm, you . . . !"

He hesitated on his words, suddenly unsure of himself. Was it too much to say so soon? But Wolf prodded gently, "I . . . ?" and Kuro resigned himself to speak.

"You're worth more to me than your battle prowess," Kuro mumbled, a self-conscious blush rising to his cheeks as Wolf turned to stare at him, eyebrows shooting upward. "I know you were hired by my family back then because you're strong, and of course I am grateful that you protect me, but never, _ever_ think that is all you are worth. Your companionship is far more valuable to me than any service you provide."

Wolf's lips had parted at the confession, and now they pressed closed, a thin line of barely-held composure that Kuro recognized, usually when Wolf was angry. But there was a softness in his eyes, and he reached out as the barest hints of a smile finally tugged at his mouth.

"I see," he said, and then froze, the fingertips of his prosthetic mere inches from Kuro's head.

Kuro blinked, peered up at his hand, and once he processed the intent behind it he huffed out a laugh and could not help his own smile. He reached up and brought Wolf's hand the rest of the distance down to rest on his head, as clear an invitation as any. Wolf relented, ruffling his hair fondly, and Kuro closed his eyes and enjoyed the attention.

He hadn't had positive touch like this since that fateful night at the estate. Wolf and even Emma had been known to offer a reassuring touch in the face of struggles, but never had they done so just out of fondness, out of impulse, out of a simple want for friendly contact. This was even nicer than holding Wolf's hand, and some part of Kuro mourned the loss when Wolf pulled back, the moment too short for the lacking contact it made up for. But Wolf still had the tent to set up, so Kuro held back his childish pout and allowed Wolf to return to work.

"There is one other thing," Wolf said after a moment, the lightness in his voice fading as he returned to work. "I know my anger was not unnoticed. It was hard to control, and . . . "

Kuro's heart felt as though it was sinking into his stomach. He had not forgotten how mercilessly Wolf had moved to coldly murder the last bandit, the man that had only escaped because of Wolf's mysterious illness. "It burned?" he asked quietly, fearing the answer, and to his dismay Wolf made a low noise of confirmation.

"It has faded. I feel it no longer, but if it happens again - "

"You won't," Kuro interrupted firmly, a childish need to prevent Wolf from saying it aloud so it would not come true. "We won't let it happen. That's - that's an order."

Wolf huffed out something that was almost a chuckle, the sentiment apparently not lost on him. He tied the last knot before turning back to Kuro, bowing low and replying, "Of course, my Lord."

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that," Kuro complained lightheartedly, earning the desired response of a startled look from his shinobi. "People will think it's strange."

"Yes . . . Kuro?"

Kuro nodded decisively. "Perfect! Just like that. No more of that 'Lord' nonsense. We're fugitives, now."

"Of course, Kuro."

The word was awkward in his mouth without an honorific or title attached to it, but Kuro hoped that with time it would become comfortable to refer to him so casually. Informally. Like a friend, or -

\- or family.

"Hey, you two chatterboxes!" A friendly voice called from across the camp, and Da raised a waterskin at them from his place near the fire. "Come over, eat, drink! Lekang made plenty of soup!"

Kuro cocked his head at Wolf, very interested but aware of how wary Wolf was of the rest of the men in camp - and he would be lying if he claimed not to feel much the same. At Wolf's nod, he called back, "Are you sure? We can feed ourselves."

"Now, that's just an insult to his cooking, kid! Come, come!"

So they obeyed, Wolf tucking their pack into the tent before following Kuro to the fire.

It was warm, an unpleasant thought, but bearable as the sun began to fade and the heat lessened. There were halved logs placed around the flames, obviously for seating, and a small cooking spit set up with a massive cast-iron pot, its contents bubbling and smelling quite heavenly. A young man with a bow strapped over his back and his hair tied out of his face was ladling the soup in bowls, which were passed around as more men drew near for dinner. Wolf eyed the food with skepticism, but as the men ate without qualm, the two newcomers supposed it must be safe.

The cook was speaking, most of which Kuro could pick up - "No meat tonight for you lunkheads, don't go crying about it!" - and found himself giggling as the men around the bonfire voiced their protest. He found the soup rather nice anyway, loaded with spices he did not fully recognize, and Da nudged Kuro's shoulder with his elbow.

"That's Lekang. Kid's new, but he's a miracle at the pot. Not much of a hunter or fighter, so we have to provide the meat he cooks if we want any. These lazy bums rarely ever provide."

"I don't see you helping," Kuro replied cheekily, and Da laughed.

"You don't see me complaining, either, do you?"

Many men peered curiously at the newcomers, but they kept to themselves for the most part, talking and laughing over their meal. Kuro caught some praise thrown Lekang's way, who preened under it all, which quickly turned to scolding as men started to fight for seconds before Kuro had even finished his first bowl. They seemed so amiable, like they had all been traveling together for months, maybe years.

"Who's in charge around here?" Kuro asked, and then after a moment of thought added, "Who are you all, in general?"

"Simple mercenaries," Da answered easily. "Honestly, this is the most of us that we've had in one place for a long while. The people hiring us usually only need a few - we're not really any kind of organization, or anything, just a bunch of sellswords with some mutual trust. We all need friends sometimes."

"So no leaders?"

"Not really. They respect me, because I have an education. Chengxue - " He gestured to a grizzled old man with an eyepatch, large and reminiscent of Owl, Kuro thought. " - has been at this the longest, and we all take his word seriously. Yingjun over there has also been around for a while, and he's the toughest of us all - and well-liked, too." A man perhaps Wolf's age, listening intently to the tale the man next to him was regaling, an impressive sword strapped to his back. "There's a few others. We make executive decisions if we have to, but that time rarely comes. We don't claim to own these men, simply offer them strength and companionship in numbers."

"I suppose they're quite used to strangers, then," Kuro commented, and Da nodded. Another mercenary was making the rounds about the fire, collecting dishes, and Kuro offered a polite bow of his head that Wolf copied as thanks.

"You are our next contract," Da replied simply, then tacked on hurriedly, "Not to imply you owe us, of course. Payment would be appreciated, but it would be cruel to leave you both without help. They don't all need to come, but I, at least, intend on seeing you on your way. Kang, too."

"We can pay," Wolf spoke up, and Kuro nodded, very much of the opinion that they deserved it for their help. "Three days is a long while to go without work."

"Ah, we'll be fine. This little village paid well for us to take out the wolves that moved in nearby." Da smiled kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "But we all appreciate it."

It was then that Kang joined them, settling down on Wolf's other side, and the warrior known as Yingjun found his way over as well, seating himself next to Da. Kang was not unwelcome, but this new man brought attention Kuro was not sure he wanted. Yet as he inched subconsciously closer to Wolf, to his surprise, the shinobi rested a reassuring hand between his shoulder blades, a silent promise in the gesture.

Don't worry. You're safe with me.

Kuro had desperately missed the sentiment.

"Hi!" Yingjun started basic, simple, clearly operating on very little use of Japanese. "I'm Yingjun - ah, I don't know more than that. Da, do you mind?"

He had slipped back into Mandarin quickly, and Kuro stifled a giggle with the back of his hand. "I know a little Mandarin," he said, and Yingjun's brows raised in surprise as he grinned.

"Really! What do we even keep you around for, then, old man?"

Da fired something sharply back in Mandarin, and Kuro could guess it was intentionally in words he was unlikely to know - he had a very strong feeling they were quite colorful terms for young ears. But Yingjun only put a dramatic hand to his chest as though wounded before his curious gaze settled on Wolf, his chin propped up in his hands.

"Are you going to introduce the rest of us to your new friends, or what?" he prompted. "This one's strong - I bet he's been through many adventures, with many stories to tell us, I hope."

Wolf's hand twitched at Kuro's back, clearly displeased at being spoken about without knowing what was being said. Kang clapped his shoulder reassuringly, a promise it was nothing bad.

"Wolf," the shinobi said curtly when prompted for an introduction. He left it at that. Kuro could feel the distaste for Yingjun's high energy radiating in waves, and truly was not yet sure how he felt about the man himself yet.

"Kuro," he supplied when attention turned to him, a tad more diplomatic. "Da said you were Yingjun? Thank you both for offering your company's help."

"We travel, anyway," Yingjun replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. His eyes caught on Wolf once more, curiosity unhidden. "He doesn't talk much, does he?"

"To you, perhaps," Da snorted, and Yingjun frowned, elbowing his elder in the ribs, to which Da only rolled his eyes. "Wolf, you don't have to talk to these children if you don't want to."

"He's talked to me plenty," Kang said idly, and Yingjun turned a look of total betrayal and dismay on him, launching into a mess of accusations and blubbering that was something about Kang having the nerve to let down a brother-in-arms.

It all went by so fast, the mix of two languages and a flurry of topics making Kuro's head spin. But it was all lighthearted, friendly, even, the men around them laughing at one another's antics even as they pretended to argue. A light weight settled on Kuro's shoulder, something comforting, and Kuro leaned into the touch - until he realized Wolf's hand was still at his back. He turned to look, but there was no hand resting there, and the weight had gone. _It must have been Da,_ he told himself unconvincingly.

It had not been the first phantom touch on this journey, and he doubted it would be the last.

Wolf gave him a questioning glance, but Kuro shook his head. There was no sense worrying until he knew its source. Instead, they turned their attention back to Yingjun, who was holding a flask out in offering to Wolf.

"Care for a drink? Maybe it'll loosen your tongue, eh?"

"Can you stop harassing the man?" Kang scolded, and Yingjun sighed exaggeratedly.

"A mysterious figure from faraway lands, scarred by untold battles, and you expect me to _not_ to pester him for stories?"

Kuro could practically feel the eyeroll in his voice as Wolf spoke up. "I may have a few," he relented, "but I do not drink."

When Da translated, Yingjun's face positively lit up. "You _must_ share!" he insisted, then turned to Kuro with the skin of, presumably, alcohol. "What about you, kid?"

"M-Me?"

"Absolutely not."

Wolf's voice was more stern than Kuro had ever heard it in his life, and Kuro blinked up at him in surprise. Yingjun, too, seemed startled, and glanced between them in a clear attempt to figure them out. Sure, Kuro was young, but he was no stranger to alcohol - not only was it common in Ashina to include children in celebration with sake, but as part of a noble family, Kuro was quite used to being served alcohol during diplomatic dinners. Wolf was not new to these facts.

After a moment, Yungjin's expression cleared, and he took his own swig of the contents. "Not poison," he promised, and though not visible Kuro could feel Wolf's muscles relax against him ever so slightly. "It's not like you can't keep an eye on him, anyway - you're practically glued to his side!"

It was a joking jibe, and though Wolf remained grumpy, he glanced down at Kuro. An invitation, permission - _you decide._ And though Kuro had his own concerns, the idea of drinking something other than fine wines and sakes certainly making him nervous, he could not deny his childish interest. He had not had alcohol for a long while, and wondered the strength of this brew, how well he could take it now that he was a few years older.

So he held his hand out, and with an approving whistle, Yingjun pressed the skin into his small hands. With too many eyes on him, Kuro lifted the container to his lips and took a too-large gulp in an effort to seem like someone who had done this before.

A mistake, clearly, as the liquid burned all the way down, drawing a few coughs from him as his eyes watered. The men around him erupted into sound, Da's hand joining Wolf's on his back as he patted the coughs from him sympathetically. Wolf's hand rubbed reassuring circles into his spine, a noise of disapproval issuing from his throat at the other men's laughter, but as they began to calm and check that Kuro was alright he seemed to relax.

"Bit daring of you, there," Da teased, and Kuro didn't know whether the blush on his cheeks was from the coughing or embarrassment. He opted to believe the former.

"He took it like a champ, though," Yingjun declared, reaching out to pat Kuro's knee heartily. "You'll be drinking like a warrior in no time!"

Kuro giggled with them, flustered at the praise, and covered his lower face with the sleeve of his kimono. Already he could feel the fog over his mind, coming as a surprise when the simple sake at gatherings had always taken many sips to make him tipsy. He was not so inebriated from one drink that he could not balance or focus, but he was finding the antics of Yingjun and Kang arguing once more - when had they gotten to that again, and why? - more amusing than perhaps he should have.

"So, Wolf," Yingjun prompted once Kang had given up his scolding, "you promised stories!"

Tension Kuro hadn't even noticed building in his limbs over the days was melting away, and he leaned more heavily on Wolf, the fuzz giving way to contentment. Wolf hesitated at the contact, and for a moment Kuro worried he might have overstepped, but then the shinobi's hand moved from Kuro's back to his arm in a comfortable side embrace.

He could hear Wolf's heart in this position, slow, calm, albeit quiet over the noise of people talking. What was even more pleasant was the hum of his voice, deep enough Kuro felt more than heard it as Wolf began to speak, began to tell a tale Kuro had not heard himself. It was quite the task to focus on, though Kuro did try for the first few minutes or so before the muffling fog over him was too strong to bother fighting.

Instead he reached idly for Wolf's other hand, not really processing the motion until he had already done it - even more baffling was the fact that Wolf had freely allowed him to do so. He ran his fingers over the scars he found there: a long one over Wolf's palm from some ceremony, old slices over his fingers, and dark marks from split knuckles. His calluses were thick and rough, speaking of years of fighting, yet his hand was gentle and limp as he allowed Kuro to inspect it.

Why was he, anyway? Kuro supposed he just . . . really enjoyed holding Wolf's hand. Enjoyed being here, pressed close to his shinobi, where he felt safe and protected in his embrace. Felt _cared for_ by Wolf's gentle hands and calming voice, in a way he hadn't since he'd lounged like this with his parents.

He still missed them dearly, but somehow less so with Wolf around.

Kuro was not sure when he had drifted off, but he awoke with his head in Wolf's lap and the fire dying before them as the shinobi attempted to move him discreetly. Kuro blinked blearily up at him, yawned, and allowed Wolf to scoop him up and take him to their new tent. Wolf's hold was delicate, careful, like Kuro was something to be protected, and it had a fond warmth seeping through the child's chest.

"'Night, Wolf," he mumbled sleepily as he was placed on his bedroll, nuzzling into the soft makeshift pillow that was his coat. Wolf's voice was quiet when he replied, but still audible just before Kuro slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Sleep well, Kuro."

There was a weight on his shoulders, comforting, content. A blanket, Kuro thought, and allowed sleep to overtake him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He worked alone for a reason; these things never lasted.
> 
> At least Kuro would be well-protected when things went downhill - and they always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw violence and death this chapter, plus assisted suicide

Kuro awoke groggy and thirsty amongst the hustle and bustle of men taking down camp and preparing for the journey ahead. Wolf himself was busy rolling up his bedding and stashing away his weapons, not noticing Kuro's consciousness until he was digging into their pack for water.

"Good morning," he greeted as Kuro took long gulps from the waterskin, unable to help the faint amusement tinging his tone. Kuro resurfaced a moment later, now gulping in air, then was overtaken by a yawn.

"Good morning," he echoed, rubbing his eyes. "Hot again today, huh?"

"Unfortunately," Wolf agreed. With Kuro awake, he started to fold up his bedding as well. "Kang says that we will find more trees along the way, and the shade will help."

"More walking," Kuro sighed, something vaguely petulant in his tone, but after another yawn and a firm pat to his cheeks he declared, "Alright! We'd best get moving."

Kuro's enthusiasm was sweet, but as their belongings were packed away and tent tied down to the pack, already he seemed unprepared to deal with the sun. They had already done much walking the day before. Kuro's feet were not built for this much, undoubtedly sore and definitely likely to blister in his shoes, but there was not much Wolf could do. There was no room on his back to carry Kuro, and he was admittedly too big nowadays to ride on his shoulders. The child merely settled on holding his hand.

To his credit, Kuro did not complain as the company began to walk, but it was still early in the day.

The sun was unforgiving, and at some point Kuro had to let go of his hand for it was growing too hot to continue. The hours admittedly passed faster than the day before with the companionable talking, a nice contrast to the silence Kuro and Wolf often shared under the overbearing heat, though the vulnerability of his damaged prosthetic and anticipation about this mysterious inventor kept the time ticking by slower still.

There was not much to be said during the first day of the journey, nor even the second. Da was kind enough to keep them company and hold conversation during the day, and at night pleasant moments were shared around the fire, tales swapped and even songs sung amongst the mercenaries. This part, at least, Kuro seemed to enjoy, clapping and swaying along with the beats the men made with their hands and feet.

But for all his attempts at high spirits, it was clear that Kuro was growing tired of the walking. He started to drag behind, to grow grumpy in the sweaty heat, and truly it was to be expected; he was only a child, and a sheltered one at that. Even the shade of the thickening trees they trekked through did not seem to help.

Surprisingly, it was old Chengxue who stepped up to help, scooping Kuro onto his shoulders when he grew too cranky and tired and shooting a nod Wolf's way. The shinobi was reluctant to allow it, but Kuro's spirits were lifted once allowed a break, and Chengxue seemed quite good and patient with him, listening to him quietly and helping him with words in Mandarin and entertaining his wonder whenever Kuro pointed out animals in the wilderness that they did not have in Ashina.

At the sight, Da had sighed, something pitying in his gaze. "He had a family, once," he had murmured to Wolf, and the wariness in Wolf's gut gave way to sympathy. The shinobi allowed Chengxue to entertain Kuro without complaint, merely keeping a close eye on them, just in case.

Wolf came to know many of their names, and though they could not communicate without Da, they were still amiable and light with him. He spoke much with Kang about what it was like living with a replacement limb, and Kang taught him a thing or two that the sculptor had not - most notably, that he should take it off sometimes for the health of the residual limb. Wolf was rather skeptical of leaving himself vulnerable, but vowed he would when he could afford to.

Yet in the face of it all, things were too calm, Wolf thought, and on the second night he was proven right.

The discussions around the fire went deathly silent all at once, wariness rippling among the men as heads turned to stare. There had been rustling, a twig snapping in the underbrush at one end of the camp, and Wolf moved in front of Kuro protectively. To his surprise, he was not the only one - Chengxue and Da moved in closer, both just as protective over the child that had grown on the hearts of every man in camp.

Kuro glanced over his shoulder warily, and Wolf followed suit, though there was nobody there and no place to hide. Merely his master worrying, and Wolf could not blame him.

With the whole company on alert, clearly the source of the noise knew there was no hope, and suddenly there was a fierce rustling like nothing before as it tried to escape. It was Lekang who leapt into action first, the chef drawing his bowstring back and firing an arrow into the grass with practiced ease, and it made contact with a gurgling noise and thud of a heavy body falling.

"Didn't you say he could not hunt?" Wolf muttered to Da, who chuckled even in the face of the tension in camp.

"He does not enjoy the hunt. I did not say he was incapable."

The men began to crowd around the body, speaking quickly to one another, though Wolf held back when Kuro anxiously grabbed for a fistful of his haori. He offered his hand wordlessly, and Kuro took it, clinging tight. They had already faced more threat than Wolf hoped on the way; Kuro's anxiety was not unfounded.

"A scout," Da murmured to them when he returned from inspection. "No sign of the others, but he was loaded with weapons. Not the first time his kind have come snooping too close."

"His kind?" Kuro echoed, and Da hesitated, his eyes lingering on Kuro, his next words chosen carefully.

"We've been at odds before, but not for a long while. We've culled their numbers on many jobs, protecting trade routes and settlements, and for a while it seemed like we would not face them again. I thought we'd seen the last of them."

"Who are they?" Wolf asked quietly.

"Bandits," Da answered, "but the most organized I have ever come across. Old Chengxue killed their leader perhaps two months ago, and the rest seemed to scatter. Now I wonder if they have regrouped."

"You're sure it's them?" Kuro whispered, eyes wide, and Da's lips pressed into a thin line.

"The urchin smelled like wet dog," he said grimly. "Of course it's them."

Wolf stiffened, dread pooling heavy and icy cold in his stomach. His hand slipped from Kuro's to clutch his prosthetic protectively, and Kuro pressed closer to his side as the memory flashed vividly in his mind. He could still recall the way the dog had lunged for him, jowls drawn back and teeth glinting, closing around his prosthetic and snapping it as though it was as flimsy as a twig -

"They use dogs?"

Da's eyes lingered on the splintered bone of the prosthetic before meeting Wolf's own. "You've had a run-in with them." It was not a question.

"I killed many of them." He had brought this upon them. "But one . . . "

But Da's heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. "They would have come for us sooner or later," he said grimly. "They may be after you this time, but we would be next. Worry not - we'll take care of it. Let them come."

Wolf nodded silently, an accepting motion, though the doubt nagging at him did not waver. There were more of the men he killed out there? Even the number he had seen in his first encounter with the bandits would have been enough to at least put up a decent fight against the mercenaries; if the group shadowing them was any larger, he doubted many would make it out alive. And if they also brought dogs with them . . .

"You said we would find the inventor if we followed the river?" he asked, and with a furrowed brow Da could clearly tell what Wolf was beginning to imply. Before he could rebuke the notion, however, it was Chengxue that protested, joining them to lay a hand on Wolf's shoulder.

"No." It took all of Wolf's willpower not to appear startled; though he was sure Chengxue meant well, he disliked how small he felt next to him. "You and the little one need protection."

Yingjun popped out from behind the man, frowning. "We said we'd take you. Do we come across as the type to go back on our word?"

Kang joined the circle, nodding fiercely, and something foreign fluttered in Wolf's chest. These were good men, genuine men. Strong warriors offering their noble help, something Wolf had never had the luxury of before. He had always worked alone, never with anyone to watch his back, and anyone else with a sword had always been a target, a threat, but these men . . .

Wolf nodded at each of them, deeply genuine when he told them, "Thank you."

For he _was_ thankful, and trusted that they would fight with them until the end. But he worked alone for a reason; these things never lasted.

Kuro tugged at his haori, and Wolf took his hand once more, thumb running reassuringly over the boy's knuckles. At least he would be well-protected when things went downhill - and they always did.

* * *

It was the next morning when things did, in fact, go as predicted.

It had only been perhaps an hour of walking from camp. The line between woods and forest blurred as they trekked through the trees, eerily silent and circled protectively around Wolf and Kuro, all ready for battle. And it had come; quick as lightning and utterly merciless, only the faint _thwip_ of an arrow warned them of the thread before it was protruding from Da's throat.

"Da!" Kuro cried, heartwrenching in its agony as the man collapsed into the dirt, and then all was chaos.

Wolf dropped to his knees to scoop Kuro into his arms, heart racing as men on all sides shouted and blades clashed. He only caught glimpses of the strangers appearing from seemingly nowhere, and the sound of dogs barking and snarling set his nerves on end. Dodging past a scuffle between a mercenary and a bandit twice his size, Wolf hoisted himself up into a tree with the most coverage he could find in a heartbeat, relying on Kuro to cling as he scaled halfway up its height.

"Stay silent," he ordered, prying Kuro's fingers from his clothing even as his master's eyes shone with unshed tears. "I will come back for you."

"But your arm - !"

"I still have one working," Wolf said grimly.

He fished in his pockets and found what he was looking for - the wrappers of the colorful little candies from Senpou Temple. He had hoped not to use any so soon, for they were rare enough in Ashina; now in China, he had no source for them. He unwrapped one of each but the green, and kept them held tightly in his otherwise useless prosthetic hand as he unsheathed Kusabimaru and dropped from the tree, landing on a bandit and burying the blade through their throat. The spray of blood that splattered over his clothes when he tore it free did nothing to soothe the anger rising in his chest.

Immediately he caught the attention of three nearby foes that had been teaming up on Kang, clearly seeing the man's leg and expecting an easy target. To his credit, despite the deep gash in one shoulder and teeth marks in the wood of his leg, he was managing to at least parry most attacks. With the attention of his adversaries wavering, Kang was able to bury his blade in the spine of one, and when they turned once more Wolf thrust his sword through another's back. The third one was dispatched when Wolf swept his legs from under him, and Kang sliced open his throat.

"Thank you," Kang gasped out, hand going to his shoulder and smile shaky, and Wolf understood that much in Mandarin. And then there was a sword protruding from his chest, a wet gasp tearing from his throat, and Wolf gave a furious, guttural growl and popped the red candy he held.

The stance he took was familiar, strength coursing through his muscles, and he cleaved through the culprit's throat with little effort as fire burned in his veins. It did not make the chasm opening in his chest over Kang's lifeless eyes grow any shallower.

Much of the battle, he knew, would go the same, but it did not stop him from sprinting to the next mercenary in trouble with red crawling over his vision.

Lekang, swarmed by snarling mutts, was not saved by Wolf mercilessly cutting each and every one down, just as much for his friend's sake as for his own revenge, and as the dogs lunged for his own flesh he bit down on a blue candy and hardly felt their teeth sinking into his skin. Their whimpers and cries fell on deaf ears, and Lekang only had the time to reach out for him with a bloodying hand missing two fingers before he fell limp.

Lingjun was admirable in his fighting, but even he could not win outnumbered as he was, and though he was still standing by the time Wolf had helped him cut down perhaps a dozen bandits and twice that many dogs, his wounds were deep, and he bled out on the forest floor with his blade still in hand. Gritting his teeth, Wolf bit down on a yellow candy and leapt into the fray, parrying every sword that swung at him as though they were toothpicks, burying his sword into any body that dare come too close.

Everyone was dead or dying, friend and foe alike. All that was left was Chengxue, taking on a man just as broad and muscled as him, but much younger, faster. A gash in his belly weeped through his layers. Surviving bandits were starting to hone in as all the mercenaries lay bleeding into the dirt, and Wolf tore through them with a fire in his heart and the last blood-red sugar cracked between his teeth, desperate to spare at least one life.

When Chengxue fell to his knees, Wolf was there to rip Kusabimaru through the last bastard's stomach, watching the slimy coils of his entrails spill out onto the forest floor before the monster fell with them. So many bodies, so much blood, the scent of it sharp and overwhelming, though something deep in Wolf's chest rumbled in satisfaction that at least he had felled those that caused it.

A wet cough brought Wolf's attention back to Chengxue, still alive, and Wolf knelt beside him, hands hovering over the slash on his torso. Chengxue's own hands dwarfed Wolf's, and he held the shinobi's tightly as he asked something in Mandarin. At Wolf's hesitation, Chengxue groaned, then said, "Kuro?"

He was concerned about Wolf's charge, even now? Bringing bloodied fingers to his lips, Wolf whistled sharply, and waited with baited breath until he spotted Kuro descending clumsily from the tree, shaking visibly from head to toe even at such distance. A hand over his mouth, Kuro picked his way across the battlefield, skirting around corpses and keeping his eyes on Wolf as much as possible.

He all but collapsed into Wolf's lap, arms thrown around the shinobi's neck, and Chengxue let out a sigh of relief as Wolf held Kuro tightly. Wolf's heart buckled, aching and weak when he felt wetness seeping through his clothing to his shoulder, and all he could do was sit and wait as the fury in his veins simmered to nothing. Chengxue reached out and patted Kuro's back, far gentler than a man his size had any right to be.

The mercenary began to speak and, wiping his eyes and pulling away from Wolf, Kuro spoke with trembling lips, "He says he never thought he'd die like this."

"No," Wolf immediately protested, chest tight, and he fought to keep his composure. "Your wounds are nonlethal, I have bandages - "

Chengxue cut him off sharply, then choked out a laugh, and Kuro translated softly, "The blade was poisoned."

Of course. They would not be so lucky as to have a single survivor, would they? Perhaps this was the dragon's curse, now - anyone who met Wolf was susceptible to the dragon rot back in Ashina, and now they were doomed to die if they crossed paths? Frustration made Wolf lightheaded, and he grit his teeth, digging into one of his hidden pockets. His fingers closed around a small pellet, and he held it out to Chengxue.

"Poison," he supplied quietly, and when Kuro translated, Chengxue's expression softened. He accepted the pellet with a trembling hand, nodding gratefully to Wolf, and spoke once more before popping it into his mouth and biting down.

He slumped to the ground a second later, twitching before lying still, foam dripping from his lips. With a shuddering exhale, Kuro whispered, "He said to take care of me," and then dissolved into a choked sob, burying his face in Wolf's haori once more. All the shinobi could bear to do was hold him and mourn the death of the noble warriors he had hardly begun to know.

When was the last time Kuro had witnessed true death? Hirata, perhaps? When he was too young and delirious to process it?

"They all died protecting me," Kuro wept into his shoulder, and Wolf hugged him tighter, struggling against the grief the simple words brought.

 _No,_ he thought, _they died because I could not control myself before._ But he knew his own self-loathing would not fix Kuro's, so instead he replied, "They died because those men were criminals and cowards. They would have set the entire world ablaze given the opportunity. Our actions are our own, as are theirs."

Kuro did not respond, nor did he let go, and they sat there like that for a long while, surrounded by the carnage of friend and foe alike.

Inevitably, Wolf knew they had to keep moving, so he finally shifted to remove the pack from his back. The battle and sugar had made him thirsty, and he dug around for the waterskin and took a few deep gulps, washing the taste of copper from his mouth in the process. He offered it to Kuro, but the boy shook his head, looking nauseous at the thought, so Wolf shoved it back in the pack and made to stand. The water had not helped much, but the stream was nearby, and he could refill there and wash off some of the blood and grime.

But as he made to stand, the world began to spin, and he stumbled back to his knees, nearly knocking into Kuro in the process. Kuro voiced his concern, but it was muffled past the sudden haze over his mind. What was this fatigue, dragging down his limbs? Was he injured more than he thought in the battle? But no, aside from a shallow weeping cut on his side and a few insubstantial bite marks, he was remarkably unscathed.

"Were you poisoned, too?" Kuro asked with horror dripping from his words, and for a shocked moment Wolf realized he had not even considered it. He shook his head eventually, though the way it made him sway told him it was a mistake; this was a familiar feeling, yet increased five, perhaps tenfold. The mysterious illness that had plagued him last time, had forced him to spare the highwayman that had undoubtedly brought his friends here today.

"No," he managed, "it's . . . "

The forest floor came up to meet him as he collapsed, faint and heavy and still absolutely parched, and with strange clarity he also noted that he terribly needed to empty his bladder.

* * *

Wolf awoke to the sounds of gently rushing water over rocks and a breeze rustling the tall grass around him, and a few seconds later could feel said grass poking at his skin uncomfortably. He cracked his eyes open and found the sun inching close to the horizon. Had that much time really gone by since he passed out? The sky was mostly free of trees - where was he?

"Lord Kuro?" he mumbled more to himself than anything, bringing a hand to his head, and speaking brought his attention to how terribly thirsty he was. Where was Kuro? He rose sharply at the thought, then exhaled harshly as his head throbbed.

"Wolf?"

He turned to find the source of the voice, and found Kuro rising from where he had been sitting against a tree nearby. The Divine Heir scrambled to his shinobi's side, almost tripping over his own feet, and swept Wolf's hand away from his head to feel with his own. Relieved to see Kuro unharmed, Wolf could only stare at the concern scrawled all over his features, written in his wide eyes and furrowed brows. His hands were small, altogether not too useful, but still so gentle in the way they swept stray hairs from Wolf's face and picked grass from his ponytail.

It was foreign, being doted on like this. The closest he could remember to this sort of concern was the soft way Emma had tended his wounds whenever Kuro himself insisted he see her. Even Owl - or perhaps _especially_ Owl - had never been so tender, had never cared to check his forehead for fever or . . . or apparently, drag him somewhere safe and calm after his collapse. Where had little Kuro found the strength for that?

"Did I die?" he croaked out, and Kuro shook his head, reaching blindly behind him before pressing the waterskin into Wolf's hands.

"No," Kuro replied as Wolf drank gratefully. "I-I mean, I don't think so. There's no sakura petals, so . . . how are you feeling?"

 _Terrible,_ Wolf thought, but refrained from verbalizing it. The dizziness had faded somewhat, but the water had done little to satiate his thirst, and his bladder still complained fiercely. The trickling of the stream nearby did nothing to help that last one. But he took a deep breath, rose slowly to his feet, and when he found that the weakness in his limbs was not so terrible as before, he said, "I will be fine. We should keep moving."

Kuro rose as well, and Wolf could feel wary eyes on his back as he tracked down their pack, which lay next to the tree Kuro had been settled under minutes before. "I guess you're right," Kuro mumbled as Wolf shouldered the bag, though he he sounded rather unconvinced, and something reminiscent of guilt wormed its way into the shinobi's gut. How worried had he made his master? How long had Kuro waited, watching Wolf's still body, hoping he would wake soon?

He heard Kuro approach, and as he turned to face him, short arms wrapped around his waist. Kuro buried his face in Wolf's clothes, and it took a moment for Wolf to think to return the hug, hands settling lightly on his master's back. It was strange, how affectionate Kuro had been lately - almost clingy, really, but . . .

"Please tell me if you start feeling worse, okay?"

But Wolf was all Kuro had, wasn't he? And Kuro was watching him suffer, over and over again, no doubt fearing worse. Everyone else had died, and who knew if Wolf would follow? So far from home, would the dragon's blessing still even affect them?

"I will," Wolf promised and, remembering how much Kuro had adored the gesture before, ruffled his hair gently as they pulled apart. A small smile broke out on Kuro's face finally, and warm affection spread through Wolf's chest at the sight. He offered his hand, and Kuro took it. "Are you ready to go?"

Kuro nodded, beaming, and they trekked off downriver together, Kuro's hand warm and comforting in his.

The trees grew thicker as they walked, and it thankfully blocked out much of the sun's heat. They did not speak much as they walked, the silence a respectful one; Wolf suspected that Kuro, much like himself, thought of the fallen mercenaries as they moved on, and though Wolf knew not who he should pray to, he prayed for their souls to rest regardless. They had died bringing the two this far, and Wolf vowed he would not let their sacrifices go to waste.

Kuro informed him he had set up a small shrine of stacked rocks for them at the battleground. Wolf assured him they would have appreciated it.

Wolf's impromptu nap had set them back many hours, unfortunately, so their trip was delayed as they set up camp for the night. Despite Wolf's protests, Kuro snatched away his haori for cleaning in the river, washing his own kimono in the process - both Wolf and Chengxue had left bloody handprints on his clothing that unfortunately did not clean out thoroughly. Their clothes were hung to dry on one of the lines of twine that kept their new tent upright, and they ate together in silence.

"How are you feeling?" Kuro asked, and truly, Wolf had not thought much of it.

"Better," he answered honestly. "I seem to have walked it off."

"That's good."

Finished with his food, Kuro went to check their clothes, finding them dry, and Wolf watched him run his fingers over the faded handprint on the back of his kimono. Before he could say anything about it, however, Kuro was pulling it back on, and he brought Wolf's haori back to him by the fire.

"This thing is practically falling apart," he teased as Wolf shrugged it back on. "How long have you had it?"

"I found it the day Owl took me in," Wolf answered easily. He remembered the corpse he had lifted it from still - it hadn't had a head. Kuro's eyebrows shot up, disappearing past his bangs.

"That's older than I am," he said, as though Wolf wasn't aware of the fact. "Are you ever going to replace it?"

Wolf shrugged. Truthfully, the thought made him a little defensive; he had always had his same orange haori, and had grown somewhat attached. Perhaps it was silly, to cling to an article of clothing like a security blanket or beloved memory, especially when it had such humble origins, but . . .

"Someday," he replied evasively, "when I must." Kuro gave a knowing hum in response, and did not push.

Both of their bedrolls were set up inside the tent, but Wolf had little intention of sleeping as the sky grew dark. He would hold vigil for many honorable warriors that night. When he did not go to bed with Kuro, the child resurfaced, and Wolf nearly expected to be questioned - but Kuro only settled next to him by the fire, eyes drooping in the low light as he leaned on Wolf's shoulder.

Even as Kuro fell asleep at his side, Wolf did not relocate him to the tent, certain his charge would complain in the morning if he did.

* * *

They rose early with the sun. It was a quiet, anticipatory morning. Today, they would meet the inventor, and beyond that was entirely unknown. Kang seemed to have owned his prosthetic for a long while - was the inventor still practicing? Would he help them still? Kang's leg had also been far more simplistic than Wolf's arm, so would he even know how to repair something so complex?

He was supposedly a recluse, too - would he even still be around, if no one knew his condition . . . ?

As they walked, the trees gradually began to thin, and the shore of the stream rose higher and higher until it could be called the cliff Kang had mentioned. Higher still it went, until Kuro was struggling to keep climbing, and as they approached its height the top of a structure peeked over the horizon. Wolf pulled Kuro up the last few steps of the way, and the younger of them stopped to catch his breath, clearly tired greatly from scaling the slope, but when he spotted the house ahead of them his face lit up.

"That must be it!" he cried, exhaustion forgotten, and he grasped Wolf's hand and tugged him toward it. "Smoke coming from the chimney, too - he's home!"

As they drew closer, there were signs of quite the cozy little homestead. Three trees bearing fruit surrounded the home, and a small fenced-off area on the east side of the home housed even more plants with colorful fruit and vegetables sprouting from them. A pair of hares made their escape from the garden at the sight of approaching humans, and a cuckoo perched on the fence, preening itself.

The home itself was split strangely down the middle; half of the house was built from wood and brick and quite cozy-looking, while the other half was constructed of primarily glass, and the inside looked cluttered with unrecognizable things, though there also seemed to be some plants inside. The door was on the homely side, with a small porch that featured a wooden chair and many small wind chimes that twinkled lightly in the breeze. Overall, the structure was _very_ Western.

Despite Kuro nearly vibrating with excitement, he remained behind Wolf at the shinobi's insistence. It seemed too good to be true, and Wolf's nerves tingled on end as he knocked firmly and stepped back to give the door room to open.

There was the sound of a crash from inside, then someone shouting in Mandarin, and the door was all but thrown open. Wolf had Kusabimaru drawn in a heartbeat, and then he was staring down the barrel of a rifle to the hostile glare of a man not built for combat, his katana at the stranger's throat.

The man's round glasses were askew and his brown hair disastrous, and after a moment of their stalemate he blinked and lowered the rifle of his own will, face morphing into surprise as he spoke in another language entirely. At the motion, Wolf hesitantly allowed Kusabimaru to fall as well, and the man before them tried and faltered a few different times in speaking before he finally uttered something Wolf understood.

"Please tell me it's Japanese," he sighed, and Wolf quirked a brow. Had this man been effortlessly cycling through languages the whole time? The understanding must have shown on his face, for the man continued, "Oh, thank goodness. I must apologize - I thought you were the emperor's men!"

"The emperor?" Kuro asked, and the man's gaze dropped to his level, a smile suddenly spreading across his features.

"Oh, aren't you darling! What a terrible impression to make in front of a child, truly sorry - yes, yes, the emperor, that obnoxious fool - but more about that later, hm?" The man spoke quickly, jovially, as he set his gun aside just inside the door and clasped his hands together in front of him. "Who is it that comes calling, if not military nuisances?"

Wolf's hackles had not yet lowered fully, but he sheathed Kusabimaru when Kuro's hand laid gently on his. If nothing, the fact that this man - the inventor, surely? - had so readily set aside his own weapon spoke of safety. Kuro stepped forward to stand beside Wolf, polite when he introduced them both. "I'm Kuro, and this is Wolf. You are . . . ?"

"Aurelio," the man supplied with a short bow, and Kuro mirrored the motion, which seemed to delight him. "What brings you two to my little corner of the world?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello to one of my favorite ocs :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever the reason, I hope it was worth it."
> 
> "It was," Wolf replied quietly, something tremendously soft buried in the depths of his eyes and gruffness of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw somewhat icky description of wolf's arm

"We were told you may know something about prosthetics?"

Aurelio had ushered them through the door during their conversation, shooing them past a kitchenette and into a small living space with a few armchairs facing a burning hearth. Something aromatic was bubbling in a pot above the fire. Beyond the living space was a corner with a bed and desk, a few bookshelves, and a door that presumably led to the glass half of the house. All of the furniture was squeezed in close together, making it cramped and difficult to navigate.

Kuro and Wolf took tentative seats on the cozy furniture, having rarely seen anything like them aside from thrones built for kings, and as they settled the inventor bustled about the kitchen.

"Kang?" Aurelio asked brightly, and Kuro nodded. "Ah, it's been too long since I've seen him - how is the man?"

Aurelio's constant energy faltered ever so slightly at the hesitation that bled into Kuro's demeanor. "Gone," Kuro finally said, and felt the cruel twinge of guilt in his chest as though he had struck the killing blow himself. "I'm sorry."

"Ah. I . . . see." Aurelio fetched three teacups from a cabinet and filled a strange-looking kettle. "I told that fool his line of work would take more than his leg eventually, but I suppose he couldn't be swayed. Did he . . . die well?"

Stabbed through the heart? Kuro would not exactly call that a good death. But Wolf spoke up for him, quietly promising, "He died bravely."

"That's good, then," Aurelio murmured.

The kettle began to whistle, startling both Kuro and Wolf - when had he put it over heat? - and Aurelio poured steaming water into the mugs. Surprised, Kuro accepted the cup pressed into his hands when Aurelio returned to the fireplace, and watched Wolf eye his own with skepticism.

"Give it a few minutes to steep," Aurelio instructed brightly, the fluidity in which his manner had changed taking his guests aback. "It's cinnamon apple."

"You didn't put the kettle over the fire," Kuro commented, brows furrowing. "How . . . ?"

"Oh, it's electrical," Aurelio answered easily. "It's a simple little mechanism. I put it together ages ago, but it's enough to heat a coil!"

Kuro could not even begin to pretend to understand, so instead he just nodded slowly. Electrical? Like lightning? Tomoe's technique and Genichiro's heresy came to mind, but this man was certainly not calling it down from the heavens to slay his foes. But how else could Aurelio harness nature itself, least of all to . . . heat a kettle?

"Ah, but enough about me! Please, what can I do for you?" Aurelio leaned on the arm of Wolf's chair, and though the shinobi gave him an almost laughably stern glare in response, Aurelio paid him no mind. "You mentioned a prosthetic?"

Kuro nodded to Wolf. It was clear in the reluctant way Wolf raised his left arm that he did not trust Aurelio, and of course Kuro did not blame him, for they had only known him for mere minutes and their first encounter had been at sword and gunpoint. Yet as Aurelio's eyes went huge and he brought Wolf's arm to eye level, immediately cooing over the craftsmanship and babbling so quickly about its make Kuro could hardly follow, the Divine Heir found he could not help but feel comfortable around Aurelio's bubbly energy.

"Wow, I must be dreaming!" Wolf's expression as Aurelio moved his arm this way and that had Kuro giggling. "You can move every single joint? But without your brain connected to it, how is that even possible?"

"I would not know," Wolf said curtly, but Aurelio was hardly listening.

"And is that a _bone?_ I mean, it's archaic, but also ingenious, I suppose; bone _is_ much stronger than steel, but of course once dead it deteriorates quite quickly. No wonder it snapped. And this reel - do you mean to tell me you _swing through the air_ with this?! This twine is so old it couldn't possibly lift more than a kilogram - "

"I have yet to tell you anything," Wolf ground out. "Can you fix it?"

"I can repair it, certainly," Aurelio replied, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, "but whether it will retain its functionality is another question entirely. What empowers it to function as a real arm is a mystery to me. Where did you get ahold of something like this?"

"It belonged to a sculptor before," Wolf answered, and Aurelio cocked his head. "A former shinobi."

"Like you?" Aurelio questioned innocently, and as Kuro's amusement dissolved into wariness Wolf's lips pressed into a thin line. Aurelio sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Ah, just my luck. Of course the fugitives the emperor keeps harassing me about come knocking at my door. Really, the little one should've given it away - "

"Fugitives?" Kuro echoed warily, and Aurelio nodded, casual as though he was not speaking of some threat to them.

"Apparently the Ministry in Japan is very upset that you two have gone missing," he told them, energetic disposition gone as he studied Kuro with interest over the rim of his glasses. "Their messengers came with quite interesting rumors, you see - tales of a fearsome shinobi that thwarts death itself, and the young child that made it possible. They've put quite the bounty out for your return."

"And I suppose the emperor is easily motivated by money?" Past the concern over how vulnerable of a position they suddenly seemed to find themselves in, distaste soured Kuro's tongue at the thought. But Aurelio laughed, earning raised brows from both of his guests.

"Oh, goodness, no," he chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "The secret to immortality, given back to Japan for pocket change? No, the emperor wants you to himself - as will many others, I am sure, once news gets out."

"Should we worry that you are one of them?" Wolf asked, and Kuro recognized the growl of a threat, but Aurelio only snorted at that.

"As if! I'm content to live out my sub-century lifespan as I am now, and the emperor? Bah! The next time he sends his fools to my door, they'll get the same greeting you did - but this time I'll pull the trigger."

With a quiet little _hmph!_ he reached for his tea and took an angry sip, and Kuro met Wolf's baffled gaze with one of his own. After a moment of Aurelio stewing and clearly not planning on saying more, Kuro hesitantly asked, "Why is it the emperor comes to you?"

"He wants me to come up with some superweapon for his troops," the inventor scoffed. Kuro tried his own tea as the man spoke, and found it pleasantly sweet; he nodded to Wolf to try it, knowing of his shinobi's not-so-secret sweet tooth. "As if I could come up with something to kill an immortal! He's always harassed me, but now moreso than ever. The man is a pest! I'll make a new weapon alright, but it won't be for _his_ benefit . . . "

He dissolved into grumbling in another language entirely, assumedly his mother tongue, and it was one Kuro did not recognize in the slightest. Certainly with his strong features and lighter hair he did not look Asian, and Kuro wondered where he was from - some land far away, perhaps further than even India? Did that place understand the strange contraptions Aurelio put together, more advanced than China and Japan put together, or was Aurelio a lone man in understanding such sciences?

"About Wolf's arm," Kuro prompted when Aurelio fell quiet, and the man startled almost as though he had forgotten his visitors even existed.

"Oh, yes! I'd love to take a closer look." He set his cup on a side table, and leaned over to inspect the fastenings on the prosthetic. "If you could just remove it for me . . . "

This was the point, Kuro supposed, that Aurelio would make his move if he planned on doing them any harm, but he only watched curiously as Wolf loosened the clamps that held onto his residual limb. The shinobi hesitated before removing the arm altogether, and suddenly Kuro found himself wracking his brains to remember a time Wolf had ever removed the prosthetic.

There wasn't one, but surely he had to sometimes, right? At least to bathe.

Aurelio tutted distastefully, cradling the prosthetic in one arm as he inspected the stump of Wolf's bicep. Kuro caught a glimpse of shining, scarred skin and ugly purple and yellow bruising, and could hardly stomach to keep looking. The rings of flesh where the clamps sat were so dark and depressed it was a marvel the end of the limb saw any blood flow at all, and Aurelio voiced as much a moment later.

"Oh, dear," he sighed, thumbing over the dark marks, and Kuro caught the minute twitch of the limb that was Wolf's equivalent of leaping away from the touch. "This is far too heavy to be held on by clamps alone - what fool made that decision? And it's caused no rot or clots? I can scarcely believe it!" That, Kuro thought, could probably be attributed to the dragon's blood. But Aurelio was not done. "And all this scarring . . . it's almost as though the limb was forced into the prosthetic the same day you lost it."

Wolf's brow furrowed, lips parted, and Aurelio blinked in surprise. That was _exactly_ what had happened, and it was scrawled all over the foreigners' faces like an open book.

"You're kidding?"

Wolf shook his head. Aurelio sighed again, tenderly this time.

"Poor thing. That must have been terribly traumatic." Kuro's heart stuttered at the word. Aurelio stood and padded over to a cluttered desk in a corner under a window, clearing a space for the arm as he said, "I can't imagine the pain it must cause you. Whatever the reason, I hope it was worth it."

Traumatic? Did it still hurt him to this day? When Kang asked if he still felt the limb . . .

"It was," Wolf replied quietly, something tremendously soft buried in the depths of his eyes and gruffness of his voice.

Kuro wished it was enough to chase the regret away. Not only was he the cause of so many people's suffering on their journey already, but he was learning more and more of the pain he had already brought to others, and he was not sure how much more guilt he could handle. So much death, because Kuro was a child with the arrogant idea that he was special enough to end the dragon's lineage. Because he was foolish enough to try.

The odd weight settled on his shoulders again, too real to be a manifestation of his guilt, and interestingly enough felt too much like an attempt at comfort. Irritably, Kuro rubbed at his shoulder, finding nothing there; whatever the touch was, he was sure now that it was not a threat, but he was growing frustrated with the mystery of it.

"Were you hurt in the battle?" came Wolf's concerned voice, and Kuro realized he was still holding his shoulder.

"It's . . . "

He almost said _nothing,_ but Kuro could not come up with an excuse not to tell Wolf at this point. At first, he had not realized it was anything important, and then Wolf had always been focused on more important things. But now, well . . .

"I keep getting this sensation like someone is touching my shoulder," he confessed, "but nobody is there. I don't know what it is."

"Wait," Aurelio piped up, "you don't see it?" When both guests shot him odd looks, he elaborated, "The dragon draped over your shoulders?"

"You can see a _dragon?"_ Kuro repeated skeptically. Of course it sounded absurd - despite knowing well that the dragon god was with them and could speak through Kuro, aside from the incident on Taniguchi's ship, there had been no sign of it. But Wolf had a thoughtful look on his face, and Kuro raised a brow in silent question.

"When it spoke through you before," he confessed slowly, "for just an instant, I thought I may have seen it coiled around your shoulders. I assumed I had imagined it."

Had he felt the weight then? Kuro thought back to that night, but he could not remember much other than the fear that rattled through his core under the Eastern King's scrutiny. Turning back to Aurelio, he asked, "You can see it?"

"Well, _see_ isn't really the right word," Aurelio replied with a thoughtful hum. "Perceive? I know he's there - a white dragon missing a limb, no?" Wolf nodded, to Kuro's surprise. "Worry not - he certainly means no harm. Earlier when you came in he seemed so very wary - "

"Wait," Kuro interrupted, suddenly recalling something the man had said prior, and Aurelio tilted his head in question. "You saw a dragon on my shoulders and didn't immediately realize we were the fugitives?"

"I suspected it," Aurelio said defensively, crossing his arms. "Shame me some more for giving you the benefit of the doubt, won't you? Cheeky brat!"

Shocked, Kuro could not help but giggle, stifling the noise behind his hand. He could not recall a time _anyone_ had called him a brat, let alone someone so friendly as Aurelio. Wolf's glare was positively murderous, as though he would cut Aurelio down for calling his master anything less than an angel, but Kuro's laugh had him reluctantly lowering his hackles. Kuro remembered his tea and finished it off, finding it growing lukewarm but still pleasant, and Aurelio sighed theatrically and settled in the chair by his desk.

"I should get to work," he said, cracking his knuckles, and smiled over his shoulder at his guests. "Make yourselves at home! There's more tea in the kitchen, and feel free to look over the bookshelves - I'm sure I have a couple you can read."

Curious about the strange kettle, Kuro rose to investigate; Wolf remained seated, none-too-subtly watching over Aurelio's shoulder as he worked.

* * *

Aurelio's inspection of the prosthetic carried on well into the afternoon, stretching out for hours until Kuro began to wonder what in the world he could even be looking at anymore.

Most of the books he could read on the shelves spoke of folklore Kuro already knew, and he could only make so many cups of tea in fascination before boredom began to sink in. The moment was not like the content silence he shared with Wolf, nor was it filled with the lighthearted chatter he'd been spoiled with as they traveled with the mercenaries; rather, Aurelio worked and worked and worked, and his guests remained quiet and still to avoid bothering him.

It was terribly dull, and honestly a little insulting. It seemed the life of a hermit did nothing for one's hosting skills.

Yet eventually, as the sky began to turn orange through the window and Kuro's eyes began to droop before the warmth of the fire, Aurelio scooted away from his desk and stretched. The motion stirred Kuro back into wakefulness, and he listened to the loud cracking of the man's knuckles and creak of the chair as he stood.

"Oh!" The view as he glanced through the window clearly startled him, and he shot a guilty smile Kuro's way. "I had no idea so much time had passed! I apologize - but I hope treating you both to dinner will be sufficient repentance?"

"It is no trouble," Kuro replied pleasantly, as though he had not been bored out of his mind for hours before. "Though we won't turn down a hot meal."

"That's the spirit! Let me get some bowls!"

As Aurelio busied himself in the kitchen, Wolf rose from his armchair for the first time since their arrival. He had been quiet ever since their host went to work, anticipatory, and now that Aurelio seemed finished he approached the desk, reaching for his prosthetic and opening the clamps to fit it back on.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The tone was flatly challenging, the usual light lilt gone from Aurelio's voice as he stared Wolf down. Never one to be intimidated, Wolf dryly responded, "Taking my arm back. Are you not finished with it?"

It was a clear answer to the challenge, metaphorical sword poised to strike, waiting for the next move. Tension crackled between them as Aurelio placed his free hand on his hip, the other balancing dishware. Kuro knew not whether or not he should intervene; he rather agreed with Aurelio despite the man having not yet stated his issue, knowing well that Wolf should not continue wearing the arm, but also knew that to strip Wolf of it was to deny him security.

He did not wish to tell his shinobi to lay down his protection. No, Aurelio would have to be the one to convince Wolf.

"You are _not_ putting that thing back on."

"You would have me wait patiently without until a new one is ready?" The scoff was present in Wolf's tone even as he did not make the noise itself, and the contempt startled Kuro.

"I would," Aurelio confirmed, voice stern. "It is destroying the residual limb, and at the rate it's going you may not even be able to operate that prosthetic for much longer. The pain will worsen, and the choked flesh will inevitably die."

Was it truly that bad? Kuro was no doctor, but the gravity with which Aurelio spoke told volumes of the severity. Wolf's fingers, tracing over the bruised flesh of his bicep, his brow low and displeased, spoke of how true Aurelio's words rang. Had he truly been in pain all this time? How long had it been since he first obtained the prosthetic? A few weeks, perhaps, of agony?

"You're going to rest and let your limb heal," Aurelio continued when Wolf did not reply, "and if you're good about it, then by the time I have your new one ready, you should be good to wear it straight away. No sooner. Understood?"

When Wolf looked to Kuro, the Heir almost couldn't meet his eyes. He was not the expert here; Aurelio was, and Kuro would not undermine his decision, especially not as a guest in his home. Painstakingly, feeling every bit that he was betraying his poor Wolf by doing so, Kuro nodded toward the desk for Wolf to leave the prosthetic there. After a long moment, Wolf closed his eyes, exhaled softly through his nose, and left the prosthetic be.

"I see."

Aurelio approached the pot of soup now with the conflict over, his voice more gentle when he spoke again. "Thank you. I don't like arguing, so let's eat, alright? You'll forget all about being mad when you taste my cooking!"

For a moment, Wolf said nothing, but when the shinobi caught Kuro's worried gaze he relented, simply replying, "I am sure."

Aurelio smiled wide, his olive branch accepted, and offered the first bowl to Wolf, who balanced it in his lap without his left arm to hold it. He served himself last, so Kuro got a portion next, and the scent was even more alluring up close. Potatoes and carrots were softened from hours over the fire, and there was a spicy undertone, one Kuro's young tongue struggled to take to, though the flavor was undeniably good otherwise.

"Oh, right, sorry," Aurelio chuckled when Kuro sucked in a breath at the spice. He whisked off into the kitchen to fetch his guests water from a pitcher, calling over his shoulder, "I forgot, you guys mostly stick to sugar and salt, huh?"

"It's all right," Kuro said honestly, though he was glad for the relief the cool water brought. Stealing a glance at Wolf, Kuro could not withhold a giggle; though the shinobi was determinedly stony-faced, his cheeks were flushed from the spice, eyes glassy, and he drained far more of his water than Kuro. "It's good still, just a lot to get used to."

"I'll throw in less cayenne next time," Aurelio promised.

"Less?" Wolf grumbled, and Kuro knew the man's sweet tooth was coming back to bite him.

"You wouldn't consider omitting it?" Kuro asked, sparing his shinobi the embarrassment of saying it himself, and Aurelio laughed.

"As if! Sorry, boys, but I thrive on a burning tongue!"

They shared their meal in relatively high spirits, for which Kuro was thankful after the men's argument, and afterward Aurelio kindly pointed them to the existence of a pond perhaps five minutes' walk from the house. Kuro was eternally grateful for it; he had not seen a bath since before they left Ashina, and was eager to wash away the muck and grime from their journey thus far. Even Wolf, who was not a spoiled noble child with frequent access to bathhouses, seemed to revel in the opportunity to relax in the cool waters.

It was hard to keep his eyes off Wolf's discolored bicep as they washed off, but Kuro did his best - Wolf did not deserve to be stared at like something worth pity. He would have loathed it.

Upon their return, they found that Aurelio had produced a few pillows and quilts, and led them through a door to the glass side of the house. The walls were lined with many contraptions Kuro did not recognize, though he noted the incomplete sundial painted on the floor and a telescope in one corner. More quilts were laid out to form a cushioned palette, and with their bedrolls laid on top it was quite the comfortable setup.

"It's no tatami," Aurelio said, "but it should be kind enough to your backs. The view of the stars is lovely in here, and it's less cramped than the house."

Thanks were given and good-nights exchanged; a small lantern on a drawing table nearby granted enough light so Kuro could watch Wolf in his nightly ritual of shedding his weapons to prepare for sleep. The shinobi seemed relaxed enough, or as relaxed as Wolf could be, despite his persistent suspicion of others and even his altercation with Aurelio. Despite the content tiredness of a good meal and wash tugging at Kuro to sleep, he remained upright, watching his shinobi deftly check over each blade with practiced efficiency to see if any upkeep was necessary.

"What do you think, Wolf?" Kuro asked, soft voice still so loud in the quiet, and though Wolf did not immediately speak, his silence was more contemplative than careful.

"He pushes more than I am content with," Wolf answered, "though not maliciously. He is fine."

"I'm glad you think so," Kuro said honestly. Satisfied with Wolf's answer, he finally settled down on his bedroll, eyes already drooping now that he was laying down. "He's not wrong. Even you need a rest, sometimes."

He was overtaken by a yawn, and Wolf reached out to tug the light blanket provided over Kuro's shoulders. "Sleep," he prompted, and Kuro was inclined to obey. "You have been through much lately."

Kuro did not miss Wolf's evasion, nor did he fail to rebuke that Wolf deserved some sleep, too. But Wolf only patted his still-damp locks and remained seated, staring up at the sky through thin glass as Kuro drifted off.

* * *

Wolf must have given into sleep at some point, for when Kuro awoke in the middle of the night to movement next to him, he found the source to be the shinobi fidgeting in his bedroll.

"Wolf?" Kuro mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stifled a yawn.

It took a few moments for him to realize something was wrong; at first he merely thought Wolf had awoken, or was just now going to bed, but when he found Wolf asleep he finally had the sense to worry. The shinobi's brow was creased, jaw clenched, and although the room was warm there was far more sweat on his forehead than could be attributed to temperature. His hands twitched, legs jerked minutely, echoes of movement no doubt more pronounced in his dream.

"Wolf - "

He jerked as though struck, breathing coming faster now, labored, and Kuro's hands hovered over Wolf's shoulders, unsure what he should do. Would waking him be wise? Might he just panic? But Wolf made the decision for him, shooting up from the ground with a sharp cry as Kuro jerked away roughly, lest their heads collide painfully.

The sound was one of agony and loss, more pitiful than Kuro had _ever_ heard from Wolf, and his heart wrenched as the shinobi took great lungfuls of air as though unconvinced he could truly breathe. His hand passed through the space where his left arm was meant to be, and a noise of grief spilled from his lips, face scrunched up in pain as he clutched at the abused stump left behind.

"Wolf," Kuro whispered, an announcement of his presence before he laid a small hand on the shinobi's shoulder, and Wolf startled, raising his head to stare wide-eyed at his master.

"Kuro," he croaked, no title or no honorifics of his own accord, and Kuro would have felt fondness were he not so concerned.

Wolf allowed Kuro to take his hand, a promising gesture, but to the child's surprise used it to pull him forward and hold him close in a one-armed hug. Kuro remained there for a long moment, listening to the rapid thundering of Wolf's heart and breathing in the always-lingering scent of sakura, head tucked under Wolf's chin, before it hit him.

He had not only dreamed of losing his arm - it had been a recollection of the night he lost Kuro.

Gently, Kuro coaxed his shinobi to let go so they could shuffle into a more comfortable position. By the time the door had opened, Aurelio's concerned murmurs breaking the slowly calming quiet, Kuro was leaning against Wolf with their arms looped together, fingers tracing idly over his hand as they had just a few nights before.

"I heard a shout."

"We're fine," Kuro replied, sparing Aurelio a glance, whose face was dimly lit by a candle. "I'm sorry to disturb your sleep."

The look on Aurelio's face was knowing, but he nodded in acceptance, and left them alone. Once he was gone, Kuro felt the weight of Wolf's cheek resting atop his head, and sighed and leaned in closer to the man. When Wolf's breathing grew slow and deep again, Kuro realized he had fallen asleep like that, and his heart softened.

Content, Kuro continued to trace light patterns over Wolf's palm until he drifted off as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will take your word for it," Wolf said. He finally lifted his hand to wipe at the gore that stuck to his chin, adding, "Do not make me regret it."
> 
> Aurelio laughed again. "I wouldn't dream of it," he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw illness? idk its not a big deal but it's there skdfjgh

"Hey, Kuro . . . "

Wolf gave up reading the same passage of the heavy book in his lap, curiously tuning in. Surely, Aurelio thought he was being discreet, but Wolf's hearing was something truly enviable.

"Mm?"

"I feel bad about yesterday. Any idea how I can make it up to Wolf?"

He felt bad? _As he should,_ Wolf thought stubbornly, and his residual limb twinged almost as if in agreement.

Fighting a hiss that tried to escape between his teeth, Wolf held his place in the book with his elbow and massaged briefly at the stump. Aurelio had shown him a few techniques to ease pain and tension in the scarred flesh, and while they helped at times like this where the pain surged suddenly, they did little for the constant background ache present the moment pressure was off the flesh and muscles.

He felt eyes on him, and Kuro answered the question in Mandarin. Of course his master was all too aware that Wolf could hear them. Was the secrecy necessary, though? Wolf had no love for surprises.

Perhaps that would change, though. Ever since Aurelio had taken his arm to study, and now to draw up sketches for a new replacement, he had become deathly bored and terribly antsy. It was what had made him desperate enough to select this absurdly massive book of dry poetry from an author with no talent for the craft. It made for a poor distraction, failing to prevent Wolf from staring longingly at his prosthetic every few minutes or flexing the remaining bicep in frustration.

His usefulness had been greatly diminished when it broke, but the arm had still been good enough to hold weightless things and was relied on for balance in battle. Now, he was entirely useless, and he hated how his vulnerability was increased tenfold. There was no chance he would be able to keep himself steady in battle in such a state, let alone protect Kuro, and he feared what might become of them the next time a threat came knocking.

And it would, of that much he was certain. It always did. In Ashina, fate had always decreed that they never get a moment's rest, and in China it seemed much of the same. That was one thing that did not change between lands - it was the last thing Wolf wished would stay constant in their lives.

Truth be told, he did not wish to keep fighting. He would if required, and it would be necessary many more times in their journey, but the fury - and casualties - of his last two battles haunted him.

Isshin's warnings and the Sculptor's fate were becoming more prominent concerns in the back of his mind with every foe he had slain.

"Wolf," Aurelio said, jerking him from his thoughts, and he glanced at the inventor to see him gesturing for Wolf to come closer. After marking his place in the poetry book with a scrap of paper (despite doubting he would ever return to it), Wolf complied, approaching the desk and peering down to where Aurelio was prodding at the prosthetic. "What are these grooves for? And this bracket? Do they serve a purpose?"

"I can attach tools with them," Wolf supplied, and in a heartbeat Aurelio's eyes grew huge with excitement. Before the inventor could begin to fire off inevitable questions, Wolf beat him to it, producing the small flamethrower extension from an inner pocket of his haori to slide onto the metal grooves of the prosthetic until it clicked into place. "Like so."

"Fascinating!" Aurelio proclaimed, sounding awed, and without any help he found the small tab that allowed the tool to unlatch to slide it off again. He detached and reattached it a few times before sliding it off altogether, holding the tool close to his face for inspection. "The versatility! The function! This old thing is full of surprises! Do you have any more of these tools?"

Aurelio's enthusiasm was so bright and energetic it already tired Wolf just to witness it, but it was far more interesting than trying to trudge through bad poetry. Already Kuro had left the room - when had he done so? - and returned with their pack, a knowing grin on his face, and from it Wolf produced the axe that he usually wore clipped to his obi when not attached to his arm. It was a simple little thing, but heavy, and Aurelio's hands dropped a few centimetres from the surprising weight of it before he collected himself.

"That fragile little thing held this aloft? It doesn't fit into any of the grooves, how does it attach?"

So Wolf silently showed him how it slotted into the bracket, as well as the hidden hinge that swung it from the side of his arm to his hand. All controlled with the motions of his fingers, of course. As Wolf spoke sparingly and demonstrated a few more attachments, Aurelio flipped to a new page in his notebook, scribbling notes in a language Wolf didn't recognize, so quickly his hands were a blur, and before Wolf's eyes sketches took form as the inventor came up with different ways to attach them to the new prosthetic.

"I want to try to find some way to keep a few permanently attached," he said excitedly. "The small ones - I might replace that archaic ignition device, though, I'm surprised it even works - maybe even a way to store them inside the arm, or cycle them out more quickly? It would certainly help to make your shuriken more readily available - "

The words came out faster and faster, until Wolf could hardly keep up. He was positive Aurelio had slipped into his strange mother tongue at this point, and marveled at how the man hadn't yet stopped to breathe.

At some point, Aurelio cut himself off with an excited little sound in the back of his throat, his legs beginning to bounce restlessly. In one hand his charcoal tore across the pages of his journal, lightning fast; the other went to his hair and twirled one of the unruly curls around his finger. Wolf could pick out some coherence in the scribbles, but most portrayed mechanisms he could not even begin to understand, so he backed off and left Aurelio to his work.

Wolf would be lying if he were to claim the prospect of new utilities did not interest him, but new functions sounded a lot like a longer wait. He was certainly not interested in spending longer than he had to until his arm was ready. Already he knew Aurelio to be stubbornly set in his ways, however, so he returned to his spot in the comfortable armchair and contemplated how willing he was to return to the terrible poetry.

As he was debating, Aurelio apparently finished his sketches, and he pushed himself away from the desk to rummage through its drawers. "Don't get comfortable just yet," he threw over his shoulder, producing a thin, tightly wound roll of paper. As he unraveled it, Wolf realized it was measuring tape. "Stand up, arms out!"

Bewildered, Wolf obeyed. There was hardly enough room for Aurelio to move about him in the tiny living space, but Aurelio improvised, flitting around Wolf with the measuring tape and muttering to himself. His energy had yet to fade, clear by the way he clambered over the chair and small table to get to all of Wolf's sides - the shinobi almost offered to simply turn for him, but by the time he thought to do so Aurelio was so hyper focused he probably would not have heard.

First his whole arm, then the partial limb; Wolf waited patiently, knowing better now than to attempt to question Aurelio, and Kuro watched curiously from his chair as Aurelio checked his measurements twice, three times. Finally he backed off, scribbling in his notebook, and then wordlessly headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Kuro piped up, watching him slide on a pair of sandals, and Aurelio glanced back with raised brows as though he had just remembered the child existed.

"Out," he answered simply. "There's a village down the way with a blacksmith - I'm going to put in an order for some of these parts. I'll be back by nightfall, no worries!"

"What are we meant to do?" Wolf asked, barely withholding incredulity from seeping into his words.

Aurelio merely shrugged. "Don't break anything?" he joked. He looped a satchel over his shoulder and across his chest. "There's food in the garden if you get hungry. Don't make a mess of things. I'll return soon!"

And then the foreigners were left alone in Aurelio's cabin, staring blankly at the front door as it swung shut. Through the window, they watched him trek away from the ravine and down the gentle slope of the land until they could no longer see him through the glass.

"I . . . guess we'll wait for him to come back," Kuro said lamely, shrugging helplessly when Wolf glanced his way. The Heir settled into the armchair that had become his claim in the small cabin, and Wolf followed his lead. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad to have a moment alone."

"Yes?"

"Yes. We've learned much since we got here, and as kind as Aurelio has been, I think I need to be away from all his energy to process."

Wolf gave an amused huff and replied, "I see."

Kuro had the sense to look at least a little ashamed. "Not to say there's anything wrong with him - "

"He is a stranger," Wolf said for him, and Kuro sunk back a little in his chair with a nod of agreement. "I understand. Was there anything in particular you wished to speak of?"

"I suppose . . . the dragon bothers me some," Kuro admitted. As soon as he spoke, he frowned, and reached up to clutch his shoulder. "I mean, we knew he followed us, and that's a good thing, but is it strange for me to be unsettled that he's always hovering over me?"

"No," Wolf said truthfully, both in validation of his master's feelings and as an expression of his own. He did not like the idea of that creature's claws on Kuro, either, however docile it had proven itself to be. "But I have bested him once already. You need not worry."

"That's my Wolf," Kuro chuckled, "always ready for a fight." Wolf frowned, and Kuro giggled, and the shinobi could not find it in himself to be indignant in the face of Kuro's happiness. Quickly, Kuro sobered, carefully starting, "I'm glad for your protection, but . . . "

Kuro hesitated, as though the words were something he needed to tackle delicately. As though Wolf may have a less-than-savory response to them. As though he needed to tiptoe around the shinobi. Wolf was not going to prompt him to continue if it was a topic Kuro seemed not entirely willing to breach, but apprehension picked at him - what could make his master so hesitant to speak with someone he trusted with his life?

Kuro held his breath, halted for a moment longer, then stated upon his slow exhale, "You are too ready to throw yourself into the fray."

Was that all?

"It is my job," Wolf replied, confusion lingering at the edges of his tone. "My duty is to protect you."

"To protect me," Kuro repeated, "not to leap into any fight you can."

"I don't understand," Wolf said honestly, brow creasing, if a bit defensively.

Kuro shrugged, drawing his knees up to his chest, an obvious sign of uncertainty. "It was different, before. When you could come back from the dead in a heartbeat, and I thought I had a good reason to send you out on all those missions." He averted his eyes, mumbling, "But now . . . "

"Now?"

"Now we don't even know if the dragon's blood will revive you, but you fight anyway. And - and you fight with such fury now, and . . . "

It seemed Kuro hesitated to speak of Shura aloud, as if the mere whisper of the name would sow the seeds of impending terror. Wolf heard it linger in the air between them regardless, thick and suffocating, the insinuation enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Not to mention this strange illness," Kuro eventually said as if to distract himself from the growing unease. "You're risking too much for me."

"I have always taken risks for you," Wolf pointed out. It was not an attempt to incite guilt, only a mere fact, but Kuro flinched anyway, shrinking in on himself.

"Is it so strange that I'm finally realizing how selfish that makes me?" Kuro asked, his voice heart-wrenchingly small, and it would have been imperceptible were it not for Wolf's keen hearing.

Wolf did not think Kuro was selfish in the slightest - idealistic, perhaps, in his pursuits, but he had always operated by what he thought was best for everyone. Naive would be the better word; Kuro simply did not have the worldview yet to realize just how great the sacrifices were, even if Wolf still did not think them too great regardless. But the guilt clearly ate at the child, his new perspective into the risks Wolf had always taken clearly impacting his opinion on things.

"Perhaps you have a point about the illness," Wolf conceded, "and Shura." Kuro flinched at the name, but nevertheless, he continued, "I would be lying if I said these did not worry me. But they will not stop me from doing what has to be done."

"Haven't you sacrificed enough for me?" Kuro bit out, shockingly harsh, and Wolf felt foolish for not realizing sooner what the catalyst for all this had been. "How long are you going to keep suffering for my supposed sake?"

It was admittedly difficult to grasp where Kuro's guilt came from; Wolf was a shinobi, and was prepared for much worse than death in his line of work. Had he been given up to any other master, he was sure he would have not only died much sooner, but certainly not been cared about to such a degree. The loss of his limb was a bit of trauma that Wolf was terrible at unpacking, yes, but it was far from the worst thing that could happen to him, and it was more by the shinobi code that he continued to work past it than Kuro's orders.

It was a mix of Kuro's youth that made him attach himself so strongly to Wolf and his growing maturity that gave him guilt over it that brought them here, with Kuro watching the way Wolf subconsciously grasped at his limb and blaming himself for all their hardships. It was a complex series of emotions that Kuro was working through, and Wolf was no expert in such things - but he could not allow Kuro to go on pinning everything on himself.

"You must stop taking credit for the actions of others." The words were blunt, but Kuro peeked at him past his arms. "The root of this all is the dragon's blood, which you were granted against your will. Men are greedy and violent, and regardless of your attempts to fix things, they would have come for us."

"How can you be sure of that?"

Wolf had seen war. Wolf had seen suffering. Wolf knew the world more intimately than Kuro did, but he hardly wished to share the grisly details with his master.

"Did Genichiro not seek you out despite obtaining his own immortality? Did he not attempt to claim you regardless, and then kill you when he grew tired of reason?"

Kuro's hand traveled to his abdomen, where he had been stabbed before. It was something even Kuro could not claim he had brought upon himself, entirely cruel and unwarranted, and Wolf saw the resignation settle on his features.

"Still," he murmured, "I do not want to see you continue to get hurt."

Had Wolf focused on the wrong parts of Kuro's statements? The self-blame was more important to him at a glance, but perhaps it was not something so deeply internalized in Kuro as he had thought. Was Wolf's well-being so important to him that he would stress his own blame so greatly?

"You need not worry," Wolf said easily, as if the scent of sakura had not been so thoroughly ingrained in his clothing, as if he had not been desensitized to the taste of ash and gore in the back of his throat. "I have made it this far."

"And how many times have you died for it?" Kuro retorted. "You can't keep acting as though you have that to fall back on anymore."

His indignance, anger, even, was something Wolf could not fully grasp. "Death is not something I fear," he replied, a little helpless in the wake of the frown that his attempt at reassurance elicited. "So long as your safety is ensured, I take no issue with it."

"I don't care about that!" The outburst shocked Wolf into flinching, eyes widening as Kuro straightened enough to glare at him. "You're not expendable! Don't you get that yet?"

Ah - Wolf was quick to call Kuro naive, yet it had to be spelled out for him that Kuro's qualms came from a similar place as Wolf's motivations. He cared deeply for Kuro's safety - why had it taken so long for him to realize that Kuro felt the same?

"I know you can't promise you'll stop getting into danger." Kuro wrung his hands, gaze drifting away from the shinobi once more. "But can you please be a little more mindful of your well-being? I don't want you to suffer anymore."

Were Kuro closer, Wolf might have reached out to touch his shoulder or pat his head. As it was, however, Kuro was closed off from him, both by the distance between the chairs and the way he curled up in his as though shielding himself from potential rejection. Guilt simmered in Wolf's stomach. He had never intended to worry Kuro so greatly.

"I will be more careful," he promised.

After a long, weary moment, Kuro mumbled back, "I trust you."

There was more to say, Wolf knew, as the tension in the air had not let up, but he could not think of what. He had never been a man of many words, and already he had exhausted much of what he knew to say.

He did not get the chance to figure things out, regardless; before he could dwell longer on it, there was a knock at the door.

Kuro straightened, glancing toward the door, then back at Wolf with raised brows. "That couldn't be Aurelio, could it?"

"Not unless he forgot his key," Wolf replied grimly.

Hackles on the rise, Wolf glanced to Aurelio's desk as he stood, and grit his teeth at the sight of his prosthetic dismantled upon it. He would have to make do without. Kuro made his way to the window, peeking discretely out of it as Wolf approached the door, and another round of impatient knocking rattled the wood.

"It's just one person," Kuro relayed quietly, "but they're wearing armor."

"Stay back," Wolf warned, but Kuro shook his head, coming to stand beside the shinobi with his hand on the doorknob.

Well, Kuro had a point. If Wolf needed to draw Kusabimaru quickly, he did not need to be slowed down by opening the door. He positioned himself to hide Kuro from sight when the door opened and nodded for Kuro to go ahead.

The man on the other side was, in fact, wearing armor - rather nice armor. It gleamed in the sunlight, painted vivid crimson and gold, and Wolf had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly who this was supposed to be. The man bore a sword at his hip and a scroll in his hand, and had begun to speak in Mandarin - at some point Wolf would really need to learn the language - before his eyes landed on the shinobi and he faltered.

"You," the soldier growled, his neutral features morphing into hostility, and he grasped for the sword at his hip. Wolf was faster; Kusabimaru was out and blocking his strike in the blink of an eye.

"They really do know who we are," Kuro said, horrified, as Wolf's arm shook with the force of the soldier's blow. It was one thing to parry, and another to hold off the strength of two hands with only one. "Wolf!"

Perhaps with enough momentum Wolf could have pushed the soldier back and given himself an opening, but it was difficult enough now to keep his balance. What luck they had - even all the way out here, with no civilization in sight, threats had found them, and Wolf's mind raced as he sought an option to get them out of this. If he just had his prosthetic - !

Something metal pressed suddenly against the soldier's temple.

"Kuro, cover your ears."

There was an impossibly loud bang, like gunfire, and Wolf recoiled, Kuro's yelp nearly drowned out by the ringing in his ears. The weight on Kusabimaru was gone, and in its absence, Wolf could only watch in muted shock as a thick cloud burst forth from the soldier's head. It spattered the length of the door in lumpy crimson, and the inevitable spray of it over Wolf's face and chest was a damnably familiar sensation.

The soldier teetered, lurched to the side, then collapsed to the ground, drawing another cry from Kuro. Wolf tore his gaze from the sight to stare incredulously at Aurelio.

"How inconvenient," the inventor sighed, lowering the hand holding the device - so similar to a rifle, but small enough to wield with one hand. He offered Wolf an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that! Couldn't let him tell anyone about what he saw here, after all. Are you two okay?"

"Aurelio?" Kuro stammered, peeking out from behind Wolf as the shinobi kept a wary stare on the man. "You said you wouldn't be back until nightfall!"

"At the latest," Aurelio corrected lightly, crouching down to Kuro's level to offer him a friendly pat on the head, and Wolf barely withheld the urge to hold Kuro back. "Usually I stick around to talk to the smith - we could chat for hours, really - but I had a bad feeling, so I came back early. I'm glad I did."

He met Wolf's glare with a questioning lift of one eyebrow. Aurelio looked so docile now, but the mechanism still dangled from his hand, and Wolf would not easily forget the contempt on the man's face or the cold disdain dripping from his words before he mercilessly slaughtered the soldier. Aurelio did not act like one used to killing, but no man with his temperament would take it in such stride.

"I'm glad you came back, too," Kuro agreed, and Wolf stepped aside to allow them both to come through the doorway, not taking his eyes off Aurelio. "What _is_ that thing?"

"Oh, this? I call it a pistol." Aurelio held it flat in his hand for Kuro to look, but not touch. "I've been working on designing a gun that isn't so unwieldy. This is the best prototype so far, but it's not very accurate." He chuckled stowing the pistol back in his bag, and added, "Not that it matters much at point-blank range!"

Wolf shut the door behind them, reluctantly trailing after them as Aurelio began pulling items from his bag. Eggs, milk. Had he bought them while in town? Whatever for?

"Hey, Kuro, do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Go out to the garden and pick some berries," Aurelio said, and though Kuro seemed surprised by the request he nodded and made for the door. "There's strawberries, blackberries - whatever you'd like!"

"Ah - sure! I'll be back!"

It was a strange mix of suspicions - both that Kuro and Aurelio were in on something Wolf was not privy to, and that Aurelio was shooing Kuro away so they could talk. Perhaps both were true; Kuro and Aurelio had spoken privately before. Wolf failed to guess what they could be hiding, though.

When the door shut once more, Kuro vanishing from the cabin, Aurelio asked, "Have you stopped trusting me?"

"I am not sure I trusted you in the first place." Aurelio laughed at that, a light noise, not the mockery Wolf would have expected. "You are not what you appear."

"And what do I appear to be, hm?" Aurelio turned away from Wolf, rummaging in some ground-level cabinets for a large stone casing that mimicked a stove. "Did you think me a simple man living a cheerful life all alone? Surely you know people are more multifaceted than that. You are more than a war-torn shinobi, after all."

"Should I be worried about your other facets?" Wolf asked simply, watching Aurelio hoist the heavy-looking contraption to the fireplace, replacing the pot's usual place above the flames.

"No," Aurelio replied just as evenly. "If anything, you could find solace in the fact that you are safe here - though I wouldn't ask that much faith from you."

Wolf hummed low in his throat. He did not like the mystery, but it was clear that Aurelio did not wish to share details about himself, just as Wolf would not. Despite this new side of the inventor, Aurelio had yet to give Wolf any real reason to worry, and though Wolf was still wary, he did not find himself feeling that Aurelio could not be trusted.

"I will take your word for it," Wolf said. He finally lifted his hand to wipe at the gore that stuck to his chin, adding, "Do not make me regret it."

Aurelio laughed again. "I wouldn't dream of it," he promised. "I'm sure you could whoop me even with one arm if you felt the need. You should join Kuro - I'm sure you don't want to leave him unattended for long."

He was right, of course, though as Wolf made for the door he could not shake the feeling that the man was still hiding something.

* * *

The pleasant aroma of baked bread tickled at Wolf's nostrils, mixed with something lovely and sweet. Fruit, though Wolf was not sure what - apple, perhaps?

He was not sure when he had fallen asleep. The small stove radiated heat, and with Wolf kicked out of the kitchen while Kuro and Aurelio cooked up their mysterious plot, Wolf had little else to do besides drift off in the chair in the excessive heat. Despite the pleasant smell, the cabin was obnoxiously hot, and sweat had his scarf sticking to his neck.

"Oh! Just in time!" Aurelio's voice drifted to his ears in his groggy haze. The window was open, he noted, probably in an attempt to let the heat out, as was the door. "They're almost done."

"Up, up, sleepyhead," Kuro prompted brightly, and Wolf straightened from his uncomfortable slump to stretch his arms.

For a moment, he made to clench his left hand into a fist, and a pained noise issued from his throat when the attempt heralded sudden pain in his bicep. He quickly redirected his remaining hand to rub at the limb, irritation rising in his chest - he had just awoken, did this really need to happen now?

"Make sure you're keeping up those massages," Aurelio instructed. He was moving about in front of the fire, and Wolf realized he was removing a tray of pastries from the makeshift oven. He placed it on a cooling rack on the counter, then removed a pair of thick mitts from his hands. "It really will help."

It did help, but not with the pains that came with the mere absence of his limb. Those would go away only when he had his prosthetic back. Still, he kept his mouth shut, and nodded toward a concerned Kuro as confirmation that he was fine. He would be better once his arm was complete again, though.

"You made sweets?" he asked instead of bothering to delve into such topics, knowing he had already dwelled on them enough. Brooding was not something he should spend much time doing.

"Dinner first," Aurelio declared, like a parent scolding that he'd spoil his appetite, and though curiosity (and his taste buds) complained, Wolf accepted the bowl of leftover soup offered to him. "I added a bit of tomato sauce to dampen the spice a little - how'd it work out?"

Quite well, Wolf decided, and the three of them settled down to eat in comfortable silence. It was still spicy, but the tomato had worked well in its favor, and the promise of a dessert that smelled absolutely heavenly was more than enough for him to push through. He did, however, accept the water offered to him, his tongue burning still, even if it took more spoonfuls to get to that point this time.

He tried not to express his impatience, but he finished his food well before the other two, and when they took - in his opinion - an absurd amount of time to follow suit, he was sure they were teasing. But before long all bowls were empty, and Aurelio took them to the kitchen before returning with a pastry for each of them.

"Apple tarts," he supplied, and they were still warm, heating the pads of Wolf's fingers as he accepted one. "Kuro's idea - I wanted to make all this up to you, and he said you like sugary things!"

Wolf almost shot a look of betrayal Kuro's way, but gave up halfway; at this point, he could no longer delude himself into thinking that he was discreet about his love for sweets. Instead, he offered a quiet thanks, and they all dug contentedly into their dessert.

Things were quiet, uneventful, and for a while after Wolf and Aurelio discussed the soldier that had come by and what they would do about such things in the future. There was danger ahead, and they would need to be on their toes, but despite the subject matter Wolf did not feel altogether too threatened. He did, however, feel thirsty, so he stood to refill his glass.

Promptly, his mind blanked, legs growing weak, and he lurched back into the chair as the faintness spread through his limbs.

Not again . . . !

"Wolf," Kuro said urgently, reaching his side as the shinobi rested his forehead in his hand.

"Was I wrong to trust you?" Wolf joked feebly at Aurelio, and oh, he really was not feeling well if he was shooting for humor. Of course Aurelio had not done anything - Kuro had cooked with him, and besides, these symptoms were familiar. The inventor's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he took Wolf's glass to refill with water.

"What're your symptoms?" he asked briskly when he returned, shoving the cup into Wolf's hands, and the shinobi took a few grateful gulps. They did not soothe his dry tongue or throat well, however.

"My symptoms?"

"Yes, and preferably promptly."

"Thirsty," Wolf replied, and as he spoke - "and a headache."

"Dizziness?" Aurelio asked, and Wolf nodded. "Need to urinate?"

"What?" Wolf asked past the haze, incredulous and vaguely embarrassed, and Aurelio huffed.

"Yes or no?"

"I - yes?" He was growing irate with the questioning, head throbbing still. "What does it matter?"

"Poor fool," Aurelio sighed instead of answering, clicking his tongue. "Come on, up. We need to get you moving."

"Moving?" Kuro was the one to pipe up, concern bleeding into his words. "Shouldn't he be resting?"

"He can, but it's certainly not going to make him feel better," Aurelio replied. "Up, up! If my suspicions are correct, a walk will make you feel better."

Wolf would have bitterly questioned him again - he was positive he'd collapse if he stood now, and his suggestions certainly sounded absurd - but recalling his last bout of illness dampened his fight. He had, after all, not felt better after fainting, but hadn't he recovered after some time trekking uphill?

It was a fight to get himself upright, and would have been an embarrassment to rely so strongly on Aurelio to support his weight were he not so dizzy he could hardly think.

"There we go," Aurelio kept murmuring, amongst other small reassurances, as they made their way out the door.

Wolf felt rather pathetic as they started making their way around the home, leaning heavily on the man as Kuro flitted nervously about them, but no judgment was made of his weakness. And though for the first few minutes, Wolf was certain he would lose consciousness, slowly, as they walked, he began to feel his headache subside and his limbs grew more solid.

"How did you know this would help?" he asked warily, removing his arm from around Aurelio's supportive shoulders. He still felt weak, but did not intend to lean on the man forever.

"I've seen it before," Aurelio replied. "Tell me - were any of your other sick spells preceded by sugar consumption?"

Immediately, Wolf's mind jumped to the four sugars he had downed during his last fight, and he nodded grimly. Had those truly been the cause?

"I see." Aurelio sounded sympathetic, for what it was worth, but Wolf did not enjoy being pitied. "My father was like you. Your body doesn't digest sugar well, and it makes you ill."

"I never had this problem before coming here," Wolf pointed out. Aurelio brought a hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"No? Well, you can work the sugar off. Were you in combat much?" At Wolf's nod, he mirrored the gesture. "And if tales of your resurrection are true, I'm sure that put a wrench in things."

Even as he spoke, Wolf could recall times he had felt unwell during his quests for Kuro - but he had thought nothing at the time. His enemies had been all sorts of creatures with all sorts of powers, so he had always chalked it up to some spell or poison used on him. Now, well . . . he knew better.

"So no more pastries?" Kuro asked, and though that was truly the least of his worries, Wolf's heart sank a little anyway. Aurelio, however, shook his head.

"No, that's not true. You can have sugar so long as you stay active after. Your body will burn it right off." He nudged Wolf's side, jokingly adding, "I'll trade you a pastry if you want to chop some firewood for me tomorrow. I'm running low."

Wolf made a show of rolling his eyes, and Kuro's laugh helped ease the tension. While annoying and somewhat disheartening, this was not the worst news to receive. Wolf had fretted that it would be something worse - it was nice to finally know what was wrong with him on this front. Now that he knew, he could avoid it in the future. Aurelio truly was a brilliant man on many fronts, helping them with far more than Wolf's arm.

"Well, as lovely as this walk has been," Aurelio sighed, "the mosquitoes are coming out, so let's go back in."

They agreed, and the rest of the night was spent speaking more on Wolf's illness, the threat of Chinese soldiers, and the new prosthetic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come, Wolf, let's see if it fits!"
> 
> "It?" Wolf questioned. "It is done?"
> 
> "Well, not entirely," Aurelio answered as his guests trailed after him to his desk. "It'll probably need tweaking, but - essentially!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw spiders......... and some violence

"Maybe you should take a break," Kuro suggested hesitantly.

Four days had passed since the revelation surrounding Wolf's illness, and though the understanding was nice, little else had changed - except that now the cabin fever was driving Wolf mad.

Though he was currently chopping wood as Aurelio had jokingly suggested before, he performed any task Aurelio could think to give him in the pursuit of avoiding a moment's boredom. He picked vegetables from the garden, mended its fence despite only having use of one arm, painted said fence, moved heavy potted plants between inside and outside, and it was not until Aurelio had no more ideas that he genuinely mentioned chopping firewood.

The wood gathering was made up of many time consuming tasks itself - cut down the tree in question from the forest nearby, divide it into movable pieces, drag it to the cabin, chop it into usable chunks - yet it was not enough. Wolf had gone through a sizable amount of the wood and would be done soon, and then he would be back to wearing circles in Aurelio's floor until some other task was designated to him.

And it was taking a toll.

Of course, Kuro had kept busy, too - Aurelio had taken a bit of time to draw up some sheets of Mandarin for him to practice, and while the inventor tinkered with idle side projects for the prosthetic Kuro went to reorganizing the mess that was Aurelio's bookshelves. He had read through many more books, spent time learning Mandarin with Aurelio, and even cleaned his and Wolf's laundry.

They were all keeping occupied as Aurelio waited for parts, but the physical activity was getting to Wolf. At the moment, he stood with his chest heaving as he hoisted the axe onto his shoulder once more before swinging it down, and though the cut was clean the same could not be said for some of its predecessors. The heat had Kuro sweating, but not like Wolf, whose shitagi stuck to him in a fashion that looked terribly uncomfortable.

"And do what?" Wolf asked dryly, setting the axe down to collect another log. "It is something to occupy myself with."

"Wolf," Kuro said warningly, placing his hands on his hips. Wolf had, at least, been eating well in wake of all the physical activity - though the sugar intake was supposed to be a risk, Aurelio shoved many pastries his way, informing Kuro that it was just as important for Wolf to get enough sugar as it was to avoid having too much, and that all this work would burn it off far too quickly. But that was not the only concern. "You're exhausted and sweating bullets. Will you _please_ take a break before you keel over?"

Perhaps it was more of a blow than Kuro thought, judging by Wolf's frown, to insinuate that Wolf would grow weak enough to faint from overexertion, but sometimes he rather thought the shinobi needed someone to curb his ego. Though he did not seem a prideful man, Wolf had a tendency to forget that he was, in fact, only human, and needed to treat himself as such - especially now.

Thankfully, Wolf left the axe on the ground, the only sign of his sigh an almost imperceptible rise and fall of his shoulders, and he joined Kuro where he leaned against the newly painted fence. He did not speak; had not much at all since the wait for parts had started. It was left to Kuro to fill the silence.

"I know you don't like this," Kuro started, an attempt at consolation, but that seemed to break open the floodgates.

"This is taking too much time," Wolf scoffed, an uncharacteristic thing, though it was easily attributed to his impatience, which was less strange of him. "Aurelio's hospitality is appreciated, but the longer we sit here, the greater a target we - and he - become."

Kuro watched him move to wipe the sweat from his brow. The gnarled stump of his left arm rose, then jolted, and Wolf exhaled sharply and covered the end with his only hand. Kuro could only look away; he hated to look in on something that he knew made Wolf feel so vulnerable. It added to his irritation, though it was only visible in his set jaw and lowered brow - Wolf always did his best to restrain himself around Kuro.

Kuro almost wished he would not. It was another wall to break down between them - to make Wolf understand that they did not need to keep such a strict relationship anymore. That . . . that Kuro did not _want_ to keep such a strict relationship anymore. They had made some progress, as Wolf was more receptive to affection, but it seemed more for Kuro's sake than his own desire.

That was a topic for another day, though.

"Aurelio is a capable man," he reminded Wolf. Thinking back to the cold words Aurelio had spoken days before and the corpse on the stoop, he shuddered - there was definitely more to the man than he was letting on. "I know you're worried, but this was a necessary detour. I'm sure it won't be much longer, and he will be safe once we're gone."

It was clear Wolf was not entirely mollified, but he sighed, muttering, "I hope you're right."

Kuro hoped he was, too.

"You shouldn't speak about people when they aren't around!" Kuro nearly jumped out of his skin, and both of them glanced to the cabin's window, which Aurelio was all but hanging out of. "But that's not important - I've had an epiphany!"

"O-Oh?" was all Kuro could muster, placing a hand on his chest and willing his heart to slow its beating. Aurelio nodded wildly and sat himself on the windowsill, legs swinging like an excited child's.

"I called the design of the arm archaic before, but I've been thinking - what if it was intentional?" Aurelio's hands tapped on the wood of the sill, as though impatient at his own inability to speak faster; Kuro could hardly follow his words. "At first I assumed the creator was simply making do for structural integrity's sake, but judging by the craftsmanship of some of your other weapons, your home country had no shortage of finer materials to work with. So why the bone?"

"Aesthetics?" Kuro joked, earning a laugh from Aurelio.

"It does add to Wolf's rugged charm," he agreed lightly. "But more importantly, I believe it serves a functional purpose - you two told me the arm was made to replace that of a shinobi before you."

"Are you saying . . . ?"

Aurelio nodded, turning his eyes on Wolf. "Do you think the bone could have come from the very arm that shinobi lost?"

"I have not thought about it," Wolf said, though his voice was lighter than before with unveiled interest. "And if it is?"

"I believe," Aurelio began, then tacked on, "now, hear me out, I know this sounds outlandish - but I believe that bone granted the power to make the prosthetic move as if it were truly your arm."

It did sound outlandish, but moreso than disbelief, Kuro found himself fascinated by the prospect. "How do you figure?" he asked, and Aurelio's face lit up at the question.

"I am _so_ glad you asked," he replied, kicking his feet out in excitement. "I think, when that shinobi from before used the prosthetic, his body and bone sort of . . . recognized each other, for lack of a better term. Shinobi are no simple soldiers, after all - there's a power far greater to them than physical strength. I think that bone still held some residual power, some piece of him, and it worked in tandem with him. The original creator recognized it and used it to his advantage.

"The arm was passed directly down to you from the former owner, yes? Undoubtedly that was a permission, of sorts - you were allowed to harness the same power stored in that bone to function the prosthetic properly. It bends to your intent."

"So if we want the prosthetic to continue to work as it does," Wolf spoke up, "we need something else of similar origin?"

His tone was not a hopeful one, and Kuro was inclined to agree with that sentiment. Where were they going to find something of the same caliber to replace the bone? But Aurelio adjusted his glasses, sunlight glinting dramatically off of them. His smile had not faltered.

"Fret not," he declared, hopping from the windowsill to the grass below, and Kuro could not help but think he was rather too old for such gestures. "I have an idea! Theoretically, any old magical item would work so long as we integrate it into the arm's functionality, and I have just the thing!"

"You do?" Kuro asked, watching Aurelio approach Wolf, producing the measuring tape from his pocket. "What is it?"

Aurelio paused. His smile slipped a notch, and he rubbed at the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. "Well, let's see if it works first, hm? Shirt off, Wolf, I need to make some measurements."

What was _that?_

"Did we not already do this?" Wolf grumbled, but obeyed, slipping his shitagi from his shoulders, and Aurelio went to measuring them with a slip of measuring tape he'd procured from seemingly nowhere.

"I wasn't thorough," Aurelio replied, moving to measure his chest width. "That was for the arm, this is for the brace. I'm going to go see my lovely seamstress!"

"More parts to order?" Kuro asked, hesitance working its way in from the earlier display. Wolf grunted agreement.

"Could you not have done it sooner?"

"Oh, no," Aurelio waved them off. "This will only take one visit - not that I don't wish it was longer! I never loathe an opportunity to see her. Ah, my lovely Joro, if only she would move in with me - "

"Does she wish to?" Wolf scoffed under his breath, and Aurelio gave his arm an offended, light swat.

"Of course she does!" he sniffed, crossing his arms. "The circumstances just . . . aren't really in our favor."

"You seem quite fond of her," Kuro piped up, more kind. "I'm surprised this is the first we're hearing of her."

"Ah, well . . . " And there was that strange guarded behavior from before, where usually Aurelio was so eager to talk. "She's very secretive. I usually don't go blabbing to everyone that she exists, especially with the soldiers knocking on my door all the time."

"Would they harm her?" Kuro asked, curiosity and concern sparking - could they help?

"Many people would," Aurelio replied grimly. But he brightened quickly, adding, "Not that she can't take care of herself - she nearly killed me the first time she saw me! Those are fond memories - oh, Wolf, you can put your shirt back on."

Fond memories? Was this an abusive relationship? Kuro shared a concerned look with Wolf, but his shinobi had nothing to add, shrugging imperceptibly. It was not their problem, the gesture seemed to say, and though the faint worry did not fade Kuro ignored it in favor of following the inventor back inside. To his relief, he did not have to ask Wolf to join; he abandoned the woodpile to accompany them.

They watched Aurelio collect a few designs from his desk and stuff them in his bag. "The blacksmith came by earlier to drop off the order while you two were talking out there," Aurelio informed them, earning noises of surprise - how hadn't they noticed? "I'm going to get the rest from Joro, and then I can begin assembly!"

"Should we bother to expect you back by tonight?" Wolf asked dryly, and though at first Kuro thought the impatience was returning with a passion, something amused crept into his tone.

"Oh, no, this shouldn't take long - " Aurelio cut himself off suddenly, shoulders hiking up, and when he whirled around to face Wolf his face had grown impressively red in the span of only a few seconds. "Y-You're asking if - if we're going to - ?"

Kuro processed the implication at the same time, a noise that was equal parts embarrassed and indignant issuing from his throat as he swatted Wolf's side. "Wolf!" he sputtered, heat rising in his own cheeks. Aurelio cleared his throat pointedly before Wolf could speak again.

"I _assure_ you," he sniffed indignantly, "you do not need to worry. I will return in a timely manner, with or without - y-you know what! Now, I - I am leaving!"

He swept out the door, letting it slam behind him, and through the window they watched him trek along the cliffside. Soon he disappeared into the distant trees.

"He's not going into town," Kuro noted.

"He said she was secretive," Wolf reminded him, though there was an edge of suspicion in his voice.

Kuro, too, wondered what it was about this mysterious woman that had her hiding away from prying eyes. Was she another fugitive, like them? Maybe she had powers, too, and the easiest way to keep them secret was to hide her away? Though if it were that simple, there was no reason for Aurelio to act so shifty about telling them such.

"Did you have to chase him off?" It was not serious scolding, but Kuro still rolled his eyes, exasperated at his shinobi's antics. "I wanted to ask a few more questions."

Wolf gave an amused little huff through his nose, expression betraying nothing as he claimed, "I said nothing."

"You implied - !"

"Implied what?"

Kuro imagined he looked much like a fish, mouth agape as he stared wordlessly at Wolf, whose lips twitched in an effort to withhold his amusement. Something fond in Kuro's heart swelled at the sight, though the shock at the joke still had indignance fighting softness for dominance. He opted for smacking Wolf's elbow lightly.

"This is _not_ the way I pictured you opening up!" he said instead of taking the bait, the mere idea of elaborating on Wolf's joke sending his cheeks from aflame to ablaze.

At his words, Wolf stilled. In a heartbeat - for a heartbeat? - Kuro's smile slipped. Words rose to his tongue but remained unspoken - _I don't mean it like that, I like when you speak informally, I didn't intend to imply you shouldn't -_ but he could not manage to speak them. He swore he could all but feel Wolf receding, pulling back, closing off -

But then Wolf exhaled softly, so minute Kuro barely noticed it, and conceded lightly, "I will resort to more age-appropriate humor in the future."

More humor in the future. For once - maybe even for the first time since they had met - Wolf had not backpedaled at the first sign of disapproval. It was progress, a sign that Wolf was listening, that he was coming to understand that Kuro liked his independence. Kuro knew he should not push, and yet past the giddiness planting a silly smile on his face there was still an inkling of indignance that pricked at the back of his mind.

"Are you calling me a child?"

"Aren't you?"

Kuro gasped at the rapid response, so mild in the face of the accusation. "I'm practically a teenager already!" he protested, and yet his voice rose comically with his indignation. "I turn thirteen in . . . in . . . ?"

"Two weeks," Wolf supplied helpfully.

"Two weeks," Kuro repeated, then, "Two - ? Have you been keeping track?"

"I've been noting the days passing," was Wolf's vague response, with just enough defensiveness to expose that he was _definitely_ thinking of Kuro's birthday. But Kuro showed mercy, letting the obvious fact slide; instead he finally stepped away from the window and picked up a small book of riddles from the desk. Aurelio had presented it to him to help his comprehension in Mandarin.

"I guess all we do now is wait," Kuro said, and Wolf sighed at the thought.

"Indeed."

All they had done was wait.

* * *

Aurelio did, indeed, return before nightfall, and Wolf noted idly that his buttons were misdone, a fact that both the inventor and Kuro loudly protested him pointing out. But such antics were not something Aurelio spared much time on, for he held the glint in his eyes that the duo had come to recognize.

"My love, my heart," he proclaimed, affection strong in his tone as he whisked past them and started pulling components for the new prosthetic from his bag, "is such a fast worker - she never does make me wait! Beautiful and efficient as always, but also _brilliant!_ I was telling her about you two, and - "

"Is that wise?" Wolf interrupted, a concern Kuro shared, for they were more than aware now of the bounty on their heads. But Aurelio waved a dismissive hand.

"She would sooner take on a battalion than help the government in _any_ capacity," he replied, and a similar disdain dripped from his words to the one he characterized his lover to hold. "But regardless! I was telling her about you, Wolf, and the dragon, and don't you think it's curious you're both missing arms? At first I thought it was a reflection of your own injury, but as you told me - "

" - it's been around longer," Wolf supplied. "Texts from long before speak of its missing limb. So?"

"Yes, exactly, precisely, and Joro proposed the opposite - what if those of the dragon's blood are doomed to mirror its fate?"

"That . . . is actually an interesting theory," Kuro replied, a note of wonder in his tone. Would Wolf have suffered regardless, then, whether or not he defeated Genichiro that day? They could never know, but the thought that it was not Kuro's fault was strangely soothing.

"It is curious," Wolf agreed, though sounded rather unimpressed. "But what is the significance?"

That was a good question. Aurelio faltered, frowning, and turned to his desk.

"Well . . . I thought it interesting. I forget not everyone cares for the pursuit of knowledge." Kuro could not help but feel bad, both at the dejected tone and the way Wolf's hand twitched toward the inventor, clearly not having intended to come across so rudely. "Anyway, your dragon is missing an eye, yes? You should be careful in the future. It may have taken twenty years for the missing arm to reflect, but we don't know if that's the rule."

"Wolf could lose an eye?" Kuro blurted, the curiosity making way for horror. Wolf had lost enough from the dragon's curse - was he to lose more?

"Don't worry." Wolf's hand on his shoulder was comforting, albeit not very much so. "We will cross that bridge _if_ we come to it." He paused, then scoffed under his breath, "Though preferably fate permits that it happens _after_ this is all over, if it is to happen at all."

"Hopefully," Kuro agreed, very much disliking the idea of Wolf losing any more of himself. The gentle weight that settled briefly on his shoulders seemed to agree.

 _Does it feel guilt for what it has wrought?_ he wondered. The weight increased, then vanished; Kuro fought the urge to rub at his shoulder.

"Anyway, it's getting late - let's eat, and then you two should rest." Aurelio made for the kitchen, and Kuro watched with faint amusement as Wolf glanced longingly at the new parts the inventor had brought. So close, yet still more waiting to be done. "I'll probably get started tonight, but I can't promise it'll be finished."

"You have already done much," Wolf said, bowing his head politely. "I can wait a bit longer."

Patience was not a virtue Wolf had demonstrated recently, but the end was in sight. Proud, Kuro gave his hand a friendly squeeze before moving to help Aurelio prepare food.

* * *

The night was restful for Kuro and Wolf, and for once Kuro actually woke first, watching the sun rise through the glass as the movement of his waking had Wolf stirring. The shinobi rose a moment later, and they sat in the quiet for a long while, listening to the early morning birdsong, and Kuro could _feel_ the anticipation radiating from Wolf it seemed the man was determined to stop and enjoy a moment's peace for the first time since they'd arrived there.

"Not leaping out of bed?" Kuro teased.

"We are coming to the end of the wait." Kuro glanced his shinobi's way; the growing light hit his face in such a way that the stress lines were almost invisible, almost as though the sun itself willed it so. Wolf closed his eyes against the rays, and Kuro could scarcely believe how peaceful he looked. "Not knowing how long it would take was worse than having to wait. Now that we are in the home stretch . . . "

"It is far easier," Kuro agreed. He had not much enjoyed all the waiting, either, even if the idea of being sitting ducks was not as bothersome to him as it was to Wolf. "I've no idea how we can even begin to thank Aurelio for this."

"He would accept what he has learned as payment," Wolf said with a roll of his eyes. "At the very least, we will compensate him for feeding and sheltering us."

Kuro could not agree more. He turned back to the view, taking a deep breath and releasing it, closing his eyes - he felt he could sit there forever. This part of their journey was finally coming to a close, and it brought peace where he had otherwise been stressed about it. They would be on the road again soon, and while Kuro would miss Aurelio and his cooking and a roof over their heads, they had more important things to take care of.

Maybe later, when all was taken care of, they could -

"Wolf! You're up! Perfect!"

Aurelio's sudden arrival startled Kuro, and he placed a hand on his chest to calm his heart. A glance at the man showed his hair had become more unruly than ever, and dark circles hung under his eyes, but he was wide-awake and brimming with tangible excitement.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Kuro asked as he rose to his feet, a yawn bubbling up from his chest.

"Does it matter?" Aurelio waved the question off. "Come, Wolf, let's see if it fits!"

"It?" Wolf questioned. "It is done?"

"Well, not entirely," Aurelio answered as his guests trailed after him to his desk. "It'll probably need tweaking, but - essentially!"

And there the prosthetic was, being lifted off the desk, and the craftsmanship was absolutely stunning. Kang's leg had already been so carefully crafted, but Aurelio had outdone himself with this - the metal gleamed in the morning light, polished and tempered and undoubtedly strong, and though Kuro could see many functioning pieces, it was not too crowded of a design; in fact, it was unbelievably sleek, and almost the exact same dimensions as Wolf's remaining arm.

A set of clamps with ample padding opened to fit Wolf's residual limb inside, and Aurelio allowed him to carefully fasten it, mindful of the pressure. Tough leather covered the rest of his arm and over his shoulder, and from it, adjustable straps extended to buckle across his chest and the opposite shoulder. Aurelio flitted around him, taking notes on the fit.

"I'll have to adjust the angle of this strap, and shorten the sleeve length - the steel means the arm is heavier, so it's very important the brace bears most of the weight!"

Wolf was not listening. Kuro could tell just by looking at him. The shinobi was in his own world, inspecting the details of the arm more closely than Kuro even knew how to, and the metal fingers clenched and unclenched at Wolf's will.

"The magical property," he spoke up, and Aurelio paused to listen. "What did you replace it with?"

"Spider-thread silk," Aurelio replied brightly. Sliding back a panel on the forearm showed a spool similar to the twine Wolf had always used to launch himself before, now wound with a soft white replacement. "And not from any ordinary spider, mind you!"

"How did she get ahold of something like that?" Kuro asked, leaning in close to inspect it. He knew tales of spider demons - Japan had its fair share. He had not heard of anyone using their silk other than perhaps for clothes.

"I keep telling you Joro's formidable," Aurelio said proudly. His smile, curiously, did not meet his eyes. "Anyway - stand still, Wolf, and I'll adjust these straps, and then we can talk about the installation of some of those tools. I've designed some spots for them, but I want to make sure they all fit and work!"

It had been a long while since Kuro had seen Wolf so outwardly comfortable. He allowed Aurelio to move the arm this way and that, inspecting, tweaking, and went along with whatever he was asked without question. Now, even with Aurelio disassembling the prosthetic to explain its moving parts and functions, with his new arm finally complete Wolf seemed content to allow Aurelio to do whatever he pleased. The axe slid into a hinge here, the flamethrower fit into a slot there, the shuriken stowed away into hidden little grooves.

Wolf was complete once more - _felt_ complete, by the way he flexed the arm and nodded with every explanation. His shoulders back, his chin raised . . . Kuro had not seen him so confident since the loss of his last prosthetic. He opened his mouth, ready to ask how it felt, how _he_ felt, eager to see Wolf prepared again -

\- and then came a knock at the door.

"Open up, traitor," commanded a voice in Mandarin, and Kuro was surprised at the words he could understand. It seemed the lessons with Aurelio had done real good. "We know you're in there!"

"Ah." Aurelio hesitated, hands falling from where he inspected the arm. Raising his voice, he called back, "Now, why would I do that? You're clearly going to kill me."

The teasing lilt was light, undoubtedly meant to anger them, though his lips pressed into a grim line as he reached for the pistol on his table. Wolf stopped him, however, retrieving Kusabimaru from where it lay across an armchair and settling it back into his obi. "Allow me," he said, and though Aurelio rolled his eyes, he jerked his head toward the garden door.

"Discreetly," he relented as there was a louder banging at the door - they were trying to get in. "And be aware of the added weight." Wolf hardly spared him a nod before making for the back exit.

There were three soldiers dressed in gleaming red armor waiting for him, undoubtedly stationed to prevent their escape. It only took one confident motion of Kusabimaru to silently dispatch them all, throats skewered as they had been foolishly standing in line for Wolf's blade, and he moved as though the past weeks of inactivity had never happened. This was what Wolf was made for, what he excelled at.

He disappeared onto the roof, motions silent. Kuro tried not to worry about the gleam in his eyes as he went. It was most likely the sun reflecting off them.

The pounding at the door continued, and Kuro watched the wood rattle with anxiety rising in his chest - Wolf would not allow harm to befall them, but it had been so long since either of them had seen battle that Kuro could not help but worry he would not be as effective as he once was. Not to mention the weight of the new prosthetic, and concern for how quickly the shinobi could adapt -

The door burst open, but in the same instant there was the telltale yelp and gurgle of a man falling to one of Wolf's shuriken. A blur of orange, and Wolf was dropping from the roof, burying his blade into the throat of one soldier and cleaving clean through another's skull with his axe. There were perhaps a dozen soldiers outside the door, wielding their own blades, but Wolf was a terror, cutting down a quarter already.

"Kuro!"

The soldiers were no fools, and one came hurtling through the door. Kuro did not get the chance to see whether he meant to kill or hold Kuro hostage, for Aurelio pulled him out of the way as a loud _bang!_ had Kuro's ears ringing.

Aurelio hissed, and Kuro yelped as a sudden pain erupted in his arm - but as he reached up to feel for the source, the sensation faded, and he found nothing but a torn sleeve in its wake. Aurelio, however, had not fared so well; the pellet had torn through his thigh, and though it seemed to be a graze, it still bled through the fabric of his trousers and amplified the copper tang in the air.

Aurelio raised his pistol, aimed - but Kusabimaru was emerging from the soldier's chest before he had the chance to fire.

As the blade receded and the soldier slumped, Wolf was revealed, his chest heaving and eyes burning a fiery orange.

"Wolf?"

But then the shinobi blinked, and it was gone, and he dropped to one knee and checked Kuro over almost frantically for injuries. Had Kuro simply imagined it?

"My Lord, were you hurt?"

 _Was_ he hurt? "I . . . I don't know," Kuro confessed. It was hard to focus on his own lack of harm when the image of orange and gold was imprinted in his mind. "I thought I was, but there's no injury. But Aurelio - "

"Nice of you to notice," the inventor said through gritted teeth. Kuro opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but the man waved it away. "It's nothing some antiseptic and bandages won't fix. I probably won't even need stitches! As long as you're okay, it's fine."

Protecting him, huh? Everyone protected him - Wolf, the mercenaries, and now Aurelio, and harm had befallen all of them as a result. When would he learn to protect himself?

"I'm fine," he replied in a small voice, and Aurelio ruffled his hair with the hand that was not bloody from stemming his wound.

"Help me get to my desk, Wolf?"

The shinobi obeyed, though rather than simply offer an arm to lean on he simply swept Aurelio into his arms and carried him over the short distance. Kuro imagined there would be many such displays of strength for a small while as Wolf got the excitement of his new prosthetic out of his system. Disgruntled, Aurelio thanked him as he sat down, and retrieved a box of medical supplies from a drawer.

"A tad excessive of you," Aurelio sniffed, but did not seem altogether too annoyed by the gesture. "Were you injured? You're absolutely soaked."

An astute observation; Wolf's orange haori was almost entirely red from the men he had killed. Wolf glanced down at the garment with distaste. The blood was already caked and drying. "It is not mine." It was only a testament to how lost he had been in the kill, something Kuro did not wish to think about. With a nearly imperceptible sigh, the shinobi added, "It will not wash out. Perhaps we should see this tailor of yours."

Aurelio stilled. "Why?" he prompted, as though the answer was not clear, an icy chill seeping into his voice.

"You have praised her work," Wolf replied simply. "Who better to replace my clothing?"

Being unable to interpret if his own shinobi was baiting or innocently asking was an uncomfortable experience for Kuro - they would, in fact, seek to replace the haori regardless, but specifically hunting down this mysterious Joro was notedly suspicious - but he attempted to soften Aurelio's stiff suspicion with a friendlier, "I'd like to thank her for her help. She's done much for us."

After all, he, too, was curious.

"You understand this is not an issue I take lightly."

"Of course," Kuro said, but when Aurelio met his gaze his eyes were so intense the child almost recoiled.

"You have given me no reason to doubt you," he went on. "Travel along the cliff's edge and you will find a path leading down the ravine - you will find her if you follow it. But if any harm befalls her . . . "

He tapped Wolf's prosthetic, a challenge in his glare.

"I built this - I know how to counter it."

It was a bold threat. Were this the ordinary Aurelio, Kuro was not sure he would take it seriously, but he had never witnessed the inventor looking or sounding so intense. He expected a counter from Wolf, a fellow challenge, but the shinobi bowed his head.

"I do not intend to bring harm to her," he promised, "unless you think she will attempt to hurt us."

"Then before you go, roll the bodies over the edge of the cliff like last time." Aurelio turned away, rolling the leg of his pants up to attend to his wound. "And head back this way when you're done. I've one more addition to the prosthetic I think you'll like."

The tension had not fully dissipated, but Aurelio seemed willing to allow them to go, and Wolf did not seem threatened by Aurelio's wariness. "Come," he said to Kuro, picking up their pack from a chair and shouldering it, and Kuro obeyed.

The sun was harsh as they stepped outside, but Kuro was beginning to grow used to the heat. He almost contemplated helping Wolf as the shinobi set to picking up corpses to throw over the side of the cliff, but just one touch of icy cold fingers was enough to make him shudder and recoil. Instead, he watched, and Wolf was through the pile in minutes, leaving behind only bloodsoaked grass.

"He seemed really on edge," Kuro commented as they started along the cliff in the same direction they'd watched Aurelio travel before.

"She means much to him," Wolf replied, in a tone that spoke of empathy. Was Kuro the same, for him?

"What do you think she's like?"

"I have a hunch."

"If she's close with Aurelio, she's probably eccentric too, huh?"

Wolf scoffed. "I do not think she is _human."_

The claim was enough for Kuro to halt in his tracks, swinging his head around to stare wide-eyed at his shinobi. It was not something he had thought to suspect, himself, but Wolf sounded quite certain about the accusation. "You think she's - what, a monster? Demon?"

"We will see."

"But she means so much to Aurelio," Kuro protested. Had they really come out for Wolf to slay a beast? Was Wolf much further gone than Kuro originally thought? But Wolf's eyebrows rose, and he shook his head quickly upon processing Kuro's concern.

"I do not intend to hurt her," he said honestly. "But someone who knows of our existence, our movements - "

"We need to know if we can trust her," Kuro finished for him, relief filling in for concern.

How could he have doubted Wolf so easily?

He reached for the shinobi's hand - it had been a long while since he was afforded the luxury - and as always, Wolf accepted it without a second thought. A promise, a reassurance, one the shinobi was always willing to give. He was still Wolf, not whatever Kuro had seen in his eyes for that split second.

It was another minute's walk before they found the path down the cliff face, another minute before Kuro gathered the courage to ask.

"In the fight . . . "

Wolf's fingers twitched around his hand. "I felt it."

" . . . I see," Kuro exhaled, stomach sinking. Shura remained a problem, one they would have to worry about in the future.

"Yet . . . "

Wolf's hand closed more firmly around his, and Kuro spared a glance upward.

"I forgot everything when I thought you were hurt," Wolf admitted quietly.

The fire _had_ faded when Wolf had come to check on him. "I see," Kuro repeated, softer now, shifting closer to his shinobi's side.

"The sculptor was able to fend Shura off by finding peace in Buddha," Wolf continued. Kuro remembered the strange sculptures from the temple, their faces wrathful, yet Wolf spoke of their creator as a kind man. "Perhaps my equivalent is . . . "

The rest was left unspoken, but Kuro did not feel the need to push.

"I'll stay by your side," he promised instead, squeezing Wolf's hand back, "until the day you no longer have to worry about it."

"And if that is forever?" His tone was joking, but the set of his jaw was not.

"I can think of worse fates," Kuro teased, elbowing Wolf's side lightly.

There was little more to be said. He did not know if Wolf was mollified by his words, but he had nothing else to offer. He hoped it was enough.

A fog settled over the path as they descended further into the valley, and Kuro shifted closer to the wall for safety. There were no railings as they made their way further down, though the path was widening, and the sound of rushing waters below had Kuro thankful that there was no breeze lest the ravine turn into a wind tunnel. He imagined Aurelio coming here often, and wondered how he took the climb so frequently - Kuro was growing tired of the descent, and they would have to go uphill on the way back.

And then the smell of death hit, and Wolf muttered, "We're here."

The path had widened into almost a platform. Here there were finally railings, and there were the corpses that had been pushed over the side, mangled and broken from the fall. The idea that the railings were there to prevent them falling into the rushing waters made Kuro cover his mouth against the rising nausea.

Worse still, something was moving amongst the bodies - something dark and squirming that scattered as they approached. A dozen somethings. Wolf was in front of Kuro in an instant, but none moved their direction. Most skittered toward the rock wall, where wooden planks and a door covered the mouth of a cave.

"Curious woman that would make her home down here," Wolf commented under his breath, hand resting on Kusabimaru.

And a sultry voice answered, "Curious fool that would venture down here."

The door was split horizontally, and the top half of it swung open; from the darkness within emerged a pale woman with inky black hair. She leaned against the bottom half, dark tendrils spilling over her shoulders and chest, and Kuro realized with a sharp jolt and spike to his heart rate that it made up for her lack of clothing.

There was something notedly off about her face. Too sharp, too angular, with her mouth stretching too wide. Wolf did not have to push Kuro back - he found himself recoiling to hide behind the shinobi out of sheer instinct.

"So you're the one that provided the bodies," she mused, and her eyes, strangely high on her face, lingered on Kuro, interest sparking in them before they settled on Wolf. "They're messier work than his usual." Wolf did not reply, and she cocked her head. "I suppose I can't persuade you to draw a little closer?"

There was . . . something in her voice, something ancient and tempting, and were it not for the sharp weight on his shoulders Kuro would have come forth willingly. Wolf moved an inch, a step - but froze and shook his head hard, not to be swayed. The woman frowned, and the length of her mouth was more unsettling when it did not parallel the shape of her face.

"You're both claimed," she said, distaste dripping from her words, her face contorting along with it. Eyes still on Wolf, she went on, "You reek of their blood. But more importantly . . . "

Her hand closed around the bottom half of the door, and though Kuro noted sharp claws and spindly fingers, the greater shock was the sight that greeted them when she stepped through the entryway. The darkness appeared to follow her, the white of her skin disappearing just below her hips, and her face began to change.

Her lips stretched impossibly wide and curved, thick fangs emerged from her mouth, and six more eyes opened on her face like invisible seams. They rolled before all settling on Wolf, red shining amongst an abyssal blackness. The darkness behind her continued to follow as she emerged, growing to her full height, and Kuro stepped back as she towered over them.

The void behind her was her _body._ Curved and bulbous, a widow's abdomen, with sharp-tipped, gangly legs emerging from its mass. She loomed above Wolf as he stood his ground, hand still on Kusabimaru's hilt, sheathed even as potentially venomous saliva dripped from her teeth and a long, wicked tongue.

He truly did not mean to harm her.

"Why, little pup . . . "

A drop of liquid landed from her tongue to Wolf's cheek and sizzled.

" . . . do you smell of my beloved's blood?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What now?" Kuro finally spoke up.
> 
> "Now," she said, "I eat. I mourn. And when the time comes, I will kill many more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw lots of spiders and ... *points at tags* something very bad in there

"Jorogumo."

The woman paused, cocked her head. Another droplet of saliva fell, and Wolf jerked his head aside - his cheek burned well enough already, and were it not for how dangerous his position was, he would at least be wiping the substance away before it did any more damage. As it was, any such movement would surely result in those wicked fangs sinking into his flesh.

"You know what I am," she mused.

"We come from the same homeland."

The spider demon tilted her head further, bent at an unnatural angle now. "You have yet to answer my question," she replied, sharp teeth clacking as she spoke. All eight of her unsettling eyes turned to Kuro. "Perhaps I should make the boy squeal?"

For a heartbeat, Wolf saw fire; when he blinked, one of the jorogumo's spindly wrists was clenched so tight in his prosthetic hand that it would have surely snapped a human bone. He had not even seen her claws inching in Kuro's direction, but his blood boiled at the nerve of the attempt.

_She should lose her head for trying._

"You will not touch him," he ground out, brushing aside the uncharacteristically violent thought to show restraint, and she scoffed and drew closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

"Or what, human?"

"Stop!"

It seemed Kuro had found his voice, and despite the low growl of protest that issued from Wolf's throat, he peeked around the shinobi's legs. Holding an arm out to stop him was unnecessary, but Wolf did so anyway - already the young heir was being too gutsy, and the way the spider's eyes followed him had Wolf's hackles rising.

"Soldiers hurt him," Kuro continued, voice small but firm. "We would never do him any harm."

"Does he live?"

"Yes. He is well."

She lingered in place for a long moment before drawing her wrist from Wolf's grasp. He allowed her to go, as her teeth were beginning to shrink back into her mouth, but he did not allow Kuro to draw closer just yet.

"Why must I drag answers from humans?" the spider sighed, and all eight of her eyes rolled. "Speak up, then. If not to kill me, why are you here?"

"Aurelio said you were a tailor," Kuro replied, moving further from Wolf's side, and though it put the shinobi on edge he allowed it - the jorogumo did not appear malicious any longer. He did not relax, however, for a demon could change that in a heartbeat.

"It's hardly a business." She turned back toward the cave and squeezed through the door, her abdomen struggling to fit. It was truly a poor place for a demon of her stature to hole up; Wolf could not imagine the circumstances that led her here. "But you two look disastrous, so I suppose I can throw something together."

"Just like that?" Wolf asked, not hiding his suspicion, but Kuro shot him a scolding glare before bowing to the spider.

"We appreciate it," he thanked her, always too trusting, and followed her inside. Wolf was fast on his heels.

Something scratched in the darkness, and the door swung shut behind them, cutting off what little light there was. Wolf's hand was on Kusabimaru's hilt in a heartbeat as Kuro grabbed the stained end of his haori, blinded where Wolf could still see, but a second later the jorogumo was striking one of her wicked nails off the stone wall to spark a candle alight. The flame illuminated little, but it was enough to lead them down the wide tunnel.

"You have many children," Wolf commented. The massive spiders following them lacked faces like hers, and scuttled silently in the dark, just out of the candlelight's reach. He could easily spot several dozen of them; there were undoubtedly hundreds more further inside.

"C-Children?" Kuro stammered. Wolf cursed himself - of course Kuro could not see them, but Wolf simply had to be confrontational, exposing their existence and frightening his lord in the meantime. The jorogumo tossed her head, strands of her inky black hair blending with the darkness.

"My dearest has given me many," she replied in a low purr, holding out one of her wicked hands. A small black mass descended from the ceiling, undoubtedly younger than the rest of the spiders, and landed in her palm obediently. "They will bring you no harm."

Wolf had been joking when he first implied Aurelio might sleep with her, and now he desperately wished the illusion of the joke remained firmly in place. Imagining him with this beast - no. He shook his head firmly, banishing the thought from his mind.

"My workshop." The jorogumo led them into a small room that branched to the right, and Wolf could see a worktable and spools of thread and rolls of fabric in the dark before she lit an oil lamp, and Kuro got to stare around in wonder at all the colors. "I presume it is your measurements I already have, shinobi?"

Several of her children hung in dark corners of the room, and one skittered close to Kuro's foot, curious; Wolf shooed it away with his own before his master noticed and panicked. The jorogumo was already inspecting her fabrics, glancing between them and Wolf.

"Joro," Kuro piped up, paused, then added, "That is your name, isn't it?"

"It is close enough to one," she said.

Wolf could not help himself from asking, "Does Aurelio know your true name?"

Joro paused, then answered quietly, "He has never wanted to." Then, an edge of impatience working into her tone, she demanded, "Are they the measurements or not?"

"They are," Kuro confirmed hurriedly, and she tutted and turned back to the rack of fabrics. "But we haven't told you what we want."

"Do you think my eyes useless, child?" Joro raised scraps of two simple patterns - one a teal diamond pattern that resembled scales, and the other a simple red pinstripe. "I have _eight_ of them. Give me that haori, human."

She held her hand out pointedly, but Wolf hesitated. It had been his idea to come, yes, but now that he was here, he had not suddenly forgotten his attachment to the clothing. But after a nudge from Kuro he relented, untying his swords from his person and emptying his pockets before letting the haori fall from his shoulders.

It was still stiff with blood, and he could see now how threadbare it was, how a sleeve was torn off, how the ends frayed from the elements. It was far from salvageable, and only clothing, but he mourned it nonetheless. However . . .

"I will not don those ridiculous patterns."

Joro scoffed, all eight of her eyes rolling. "They always think they know better," she grumbled, setting the scraps aside and returning to the rack, her legs clacking noisily on the floor. "Fine, then. Keep that awful orange. Oh, but you, child - " She glanced back to Kuro, holding up the teal diamond pattern once more and peeking at him past it. "Perhaps for you, then."

"For me?" Kuro echoed. "But I - "

" - stick out like a sore thumb," Joro cut him off. "You both do. If you're to keep traveling further inland, it would be best if you did not look like a foreigner at first glance."

"Oh. I suppose not."

There was nothing to do but watch, now, as Joro pulled a meter, then two, of orange fabric from a roll. Wolf could already tell at a glance that it was not the same rough threadwork as his haori, but hopefully it would not be too different.

It was quite strange to watch her work; such a powerful demon was hardly suited for hiding in a cave, and to see her performing such a domestic task was a curious sight indeed. She worked astonishingly quickly, however, pulling charcoal and scissors from a drawer of the worktable and cutting a pattern out in a matter of seconds. She moved onto the pattern for Kuro's new clothes next, and Wolf had to admit it seemed quite fitting for his young Lord.

"How does a spider demon from Japan end up all the way out here?" Kuro asked, and she scoffed.

"Same as you," she replied dryly. "I ran."

A few pins here, another couple there, and she sewed the pieces together quickly with a thread so translucent it was clearly from the spiders - possibly even herself. The question of where the thread in his prosthetic came from was far from a mystery, now. The clothing was thrown their way, and Kuro peeled off his outer layer to try the yukata on.

"Arms out," Joro ordered, then made a strange chittering noise that no human mouth could ever hope to replicate. A handful of spiders came into the light, inching toward Kuro, who tensed at the sight. "You too, boy - and stop worrying, they won't hurt you."

Kuro was the first to obey, swayed by the authoritative tone, and made a high noise in his throat as two crept up the backs of his legs. They made it to the fabric, clawed feet pricking their way up his back, and a giggle forced its way from his mouth. Joro sighed from where she made alterations to Wolf's new haori.

"Keep still!"

"I can't - it tickles!"

Kuro may have been amused, but Wolf furrowed his brow and did his best not to comment on how Joro's children made alterations with their own thread. Just the sight of the likely lethal creatures roaming over his master was more than enough to set him on edge, and even as Kuro's laughs promised he was fine, Wolf did not dare take his eyes off his charge for a second.

"There. How does it feel?"

Wolf had not even been thinking about the fit or fabric, but as the spiders left Kuro be and the child wiped tears from his eyes, Wolf tested his arm mobility. The fabric was lighter, but not silky like he had feared; truly, there was hardly a difference aside from the weight. Perhaps he had been a bit too hasty with his reluctance to change.

"It's so light," Kuro commented, spinning in place. Joro had already returned to her worktable, throwing together something with white fabric. "I only ever had one silk kimono - trade was never great back home."

That was definitely true. Ashina was not known for having good relations with outside nations - any relations, really. Not that it likely mattered anymore.

"Thank you," Kuro continued, bowing low to Joro, and Wolf mimicked the motion. "I suppose we should be going."

"I will see you out."

It was all a tad surreal, following a mature jorogumo through her home to be escorted safely outside after receiving gifts from her, neither her nor her children moving to bring their visitors any harm. Wolf's cheek still burned from her saliva - venom and acid both, if Wolf remembered correctly - and from the hesitant looks Kuro occasionally shot his way, it was not a lovely sight.

He was sure he would have many new scars before the journey was over; this one was hardly worth extra concern.

Outside was not much brighter than inside, the sun's rays struggling to reach the depths of the ravine, but Kuro seemed to relax at the fresh air. "Thank you again," he said, offering another bow. "We'll be parting ways, then."

But Joro was not looking at him, her head raised to the sky. "No," she said slowly. "Something is wrong. Do you feel it?"

The question was directed at Wolf, and when he spared a moment away from suspicion of her, he felt it as well. It was not something he could properly describe; there was trouble on the wind, whispers of danger so delicate they raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Automatically, his hand rested on Kusabimaru's hilt, and felt Kuro's eyes on him as he matched Joro's level stare.

"I do."

"Aurelio."

Kuro's small gasp was enough to spur them into action; Joro started up the mountain, Wolf on her tail, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities. More soldiers, perhaps? But from the sound of things, the capitol was many days' journey away, so the likelihood that another group of soldiers would arrive so soon was practically nonexistent. Yet if news spread of Kuro and Wolf's existence, more men than the emperor would surely pursue them - and any who assisted them.

"Wolf," Kuro spoke up, small and strained, and Wolf glanced back to see him lagging behind. Behind him lingered a sea of huge spiders, chittering and writhing, following at their mother's beck and call. Joro paused as well, irritation edging her tone.

"You're too slow," she hissed. "I cannot wait for dead weight to keep up."

Indignance rose in Wolf's throat at the jibe, but there was no time to bicker if Aurelio truly was in trouble. Instead, he knelt down and glanced over his shoulder. "Up."

"Wolf, are you sure ‐ ?"

"Get on with it," Joro snapped before continuing on her way.

After a moment's hesitation, Kuro clambered onto his back, and though he was growing heavy with age it was nothing Wolf could not handle. The prosthetic was hardy and durable, and Wolf's right arm was in better shape than usual from the work he had been doing for Aurelio. The only task, then, was to keep his balance as he caught up with Joro, and some of her spiders passed him in their anticipation.

There was the sound of arguing as they rose higher and the mist in the air began to clear, and though Wolf's legs burned from the climb he could not stop - one of the voices was Aurelio's, and it was raised in anger and fear past words Wolf could not understand.

Kuro spoke into his ear, confirming Wolf's worries. "They're looking for us - Aurelio's insisting he doesn't know, but - "

Wolf could guess. Aurelio's loyalty would not be in vain - the shinobi would slay these men for daring to threaten him. His blood burned hot down his sword arm at the thought, but he ignored it the best he could.

As they crept over the rise, Aurelio became visible - his back was to the door of the cabin, any view of him heavily obscured by the men surrounding him. There were six of them, and though their armor was more hide than metal it was still well-crafted and defensible. No soldiers, but no mere bandits - their swords hanging at their hips were of too quality make, and two of them bore rifles that were aimed directly at Aurelio. No mere bandit could get ahold of such weaponry, even stolen.

Bounty hunters.

Wolf's plan was to sneak around the house, climb the roof, and take out the riflemen first, but even as he took a step in that direction it seemed Joro had other ideas. Of course massive monsters of myth were not exactly built for stealth, but Joro was not content to wait on him, either; she made her presence known with a low chitter, and as she approached the men turned and yelped and brandished weapons at her.

"What is _that?!"_

Perhaps Kuro and Aurelio's lessons were rubbing off on Wolf. He allowed Kuro to slide from his back before creeping behind Joro, keeping low and using her huge body to obscure him from view. The spiders crawling up from the valley behind him provided more distraction - enough that Aurelio felt safe to reach for his small gun shoved into his waistband.

Not enough of a distraction to prevent one of the gunmen from noticing.

The slide of the shuriken from its slot to Wolf's fingers was fluid and almost instantaneous, but no matter how quick his reflexes, a shuriken was not faster than a bullet. Before it found itself buried in the man's throat, a crashing _bang_ echoed in the warm air.

Aurelio staggered and his hand came up to his chest before he dropped.

Before Wolf could blink, could even understand, could begin to move, his ears were assaulted by a noise far louder and worse than that of a gunshot, and Joro lurched forward. Snapped out of his shock, Wolf grabbed for Kusabimaru, ready to sprint after her.

"Aurelio!"

Kuro whisked past him, stumbling over his feet as he ran for the inventor's crumpled form, and Wolf changed direction as his master charged headfirst into danger. He raised his blade to deflect a blow aimed by an opportunistic hunter, but the clash never occurred - one of Joro's wicked claws hooked into his armor and tossed him away, the man screaming all the while. Kuro fell to his knees at Aurelio's side a moment later, hands hovering as he tried to figure out what to do.

Wolf skidded to a halt beside them, and felt as though the air was punched out of his chest at the sight. This gunshot wound - under his left breast, certainly tearing straight through his lung - was not one he could recover from. He still lived, but not for much longer, that was certain. Every breath rattled, and every other exhale was a cough accompanied by blood.

But his eyes opened at their presence, and he coughed out in a poor imitation of laughter, "I guess my luck's run out, huh?"

Luck, indeed - first hunted down by fugitives to help them, then hurt for them, and now killed in their name - Wolf rather thought his luck had gone out long before today. But even as Kuro opened his mouth to protest, Aurelio interrupted him.

"Kuro." His voice strained, and he gritted his teeth against a wave of pain before his shoulders untensed again. "My notes. And the new part for Wolf. Everything on my desk - fetch it, quickly."

It took a moment for Kuro to process the request - no, the demand - before he nodded quickly and scrambled for the cabin, slipping inside and disappearing from view. Seconds later, one of the bounty hunters crashed into one of the porch supports, thrown by Joro, now slumped and still against the railing.

"She's here," Aurelio sighed as Joro gave another unnatural screech, and he sighed pleasantly where Wolf cringed. "How is she?"

Wolf glanced over at the fighting; even a creature should worry about a six-to-one fight, but both blade and bullet ricocheted harmlessly off her exoskeleton, and the wounds on her humanoid form seemed not to bother her. She had never needed his help.

"Furious," he replied quietly, "and formidable."

"That's her." Another sigh, turned into a wretched cough. "I'll miss her."

Wolf had no true response to that. He had experienced much death, but even as grief tried to work its way into his heart it could hardly get past the barrier of shock. Shock that this was happening, shock at Aurelio's almost whimsical attitude, and guilt - this never would have happened had they never come here.

"Wolf."

"Yes?"

"Once Kuro has the documents, I need you to burn everything down. All of it."

He could not imagine what sort of secrets Aurelio held that he would see them destroyed - never pushed, their entire time together - but he was not going to start asking now. Aurelio had done much for them for no reward but death, and Wolf would not question this final payment.

" . . . yes."

And then a gut-wrenching scream rang out from the cabin, and in glancing that direction Wolf found the man that had been stunned on the porch was no longer there.

Kuro.

Aurelio was forgotten in a heartbeat. There was no room to feel guilty for the unceremonious way he leapt over the inventor's body, nor embarrassed by how he slipped minutely on the bloodsoaked grass. There was only fire surging under his skin and his heart in his throat, spurring him into action as he vaulted over the collapsed beam on the porch and into the house, honing in on the sound of gasping whimpers. The door was wide open, the furniture askew, and on the end of the blade held by the hunter before him was Kuro.

The sight of steel disappearing into his back past his new yukata and protruding from his stomach was equal parts sickening and incomprehensible, but Kuro's rapid, panicked breaths and choked cry as the hunter tore the blade from his body snapped Wolf from any scattered thoughts trying to form.

 _Kill him,_ growled a voice in his head that was not his own.

His hand was around the assailant's neck in an instant, and with a flash of burning fury that tinted Wolf's vision red came a loud _snap._

The man's spine was crushed under his hand.

There was no time to dwell. Kuro had slumped to his knees, hands over his stomach, and though Wolf hesitated to touch him after the sudden display of inhuman strength, he had to check for injuries. At the press of a hand on his back, however, Kuro scrambled clumsily away from him.

"Wolf!" he cried out, as though for help; after a moment of his chest heaving for breath and Wolf's hand helplessly hovering between them, he repeated in a small, quaking voice, "Wolf?"

For an instant, Wolf swore he could see the small white dragon's face peering over Kuro's shoulder, lips peeled back in a snarl. He blinked, and it was gone.

"I'm here," Wolf promised gently, and his hands were reflective of his tone as he reached out once more.

The image was pushed to the back of his mind - he would worry about it later, but it would not be forgotten, for he certainly had a bone to pick with a supposed god allowing harm to befall its chosen heir.

There was no blood seeping through the blue pattern of Kuro's new clothing, though the yukata was torn; past the tear, Kuro's skin was still pale and unmarred. Kuro gave him little time to inspect further, a choked sob falling from his lips and tears welling up in his eyes before he was throwing himself at the shinobi. It was a gesture Wolf was growing used to, and as his fear waned in the wake of Kuro's safety, he wrapped his arms securely around the boy and willed his heart to calm. He had hardly noticed it pounding. His hands found the matching tear on Kuro's back and found that it, too, was accompanied by dry, unmarred skin.

Physically, he was unharmed. The dragon's blessing had assured that much. But why had it allowed Kuro to be stabbed in the first place? _How?_

For a brief moment, pressure weaved its way over his shoulders, as though a thick snake had draped itself around the pair. The emotion accompanying it was convoluted, muddled, a mix of many things, but perhaps the closest word Wolf could find to describe it with was _remorse._

"We cannot stay," he found himself saying, and Kuro stiffened in his arms and said nothing. "Can you stand?"

Kuro only curled up tighter. Not even the smallest yes or no fell from his lips. But the dragon's weight slithered off his shoulders, so he shifted to stand; though Kuro made a high, panicked noise of protest and clung tighter to Wolf's haori, he settled when the shinobi merely scooped him into his arms. Aurelio's desk was still untouched, and Wolf approached, scanning the leaflets and journals and parts for what Aurelio had meant for them to take. None of it made sense to him - his young Lord had always been the one speaking to Aurelio about the details as they studied.

"Kuro," he tried, and the soft tone managed to coax Kuro out of hiding enough to reveal one wary eye. "What did you come to get?"

Still he refused to speak, and for a moment frustration welled up in Wolf's throat - how was he meant to figure this out alone? But Kuro shifted, slowly unfurling one of his hands from Wolf's haori to reach for the desk. Obediently, Wolf lowered him enough to reach, and Kuro grabbed something metal similar to Aurelio's firearm and a small notebook, both of which were stuffed in his sleeves before he returned to hiding from the world.

Gingerly as he could, Wolf switched most of the weight to his right arm, deftly uncovering the flamethrower from his prosthetic. The books on the wall above his desk were easy kindling. Sad though it was to watch all that knowledge burn to ashes, he turned away from the growing flames and stepped over the broken door to emerge outside.

There was a bloodbath awaiting them, so much staining the grass Wolf could scarcely believe it could possibly all have come from the men Joro had slaughtered. But it was only their bodies that lay about the field, unnaturally broken and still, spiders swarming their corpses, and though Joro bore superficial wounds on her human-like flesh she remained mostly unharmed. There were, however, splashes of yellow-green amongst the red - the hunters were not the only casualties.

The same could not be said about the only body not being scavenged for food - the one that lay before her, just as still, but with his hands placed serenely over his chest and her forehead pressed to his. And then she tilted her head back and let out a mournful cry - every bit as inhuman and eerie as her previous sounds, but with a solemn beauty akin to a siren's song. The noise roused Kuro from his stillness, and he peered over his shoulder, and Wolf watched the tears well up again at the sight.

Then Joro turned to face them, and on instinct, Wolf's arms tightened around Kuro. Fury still burned behind all of her eyes, legs twitching as though still itching to skewer a corpse on one or two or four. But though she bared her teeth in a scowl, she averted her gaze a moment later, delicately resting her hands over Aurelio's.

"Do you think me a fool?" she asked, voice so soft, so gentle that for a moment Wolf suspected she might be using some sort of compulsion, but he felt no urge to move. "That I would blindly seek revenge through you?"

"You grieve," Wolf replied carefully, "and in grief . . . "

Joro scoffed, some of the familiar scorn seeping into her voice. "He did so much for you. As though I would tarnish his hard work." She shook her head, and her inky black hair spilled forward over her shoulders; it revealed an arrow lodged in her back that Wolf had not previously noticed, though it did not seem to be bothering her. "You did not cause this. The greed of man did, and they will pay - in time."

Wolf had no doubt she meant it.

"What now?" Kuro finally spoke up, and Joro's thumb swiped lovingly over Aurelio's undoubtedly cold knuckles.

"Now," she said, "I eat. I mourn. And when the time comes, I will kill many more."

"Y-You'll . . . " Kuro's voice faltered, the distress in his tone poorly hidden. "You're going to _eat him?"_

"Better than some other scavenger coming across him," Wolf murmured, and though Kuro's face twisted up in understandable revulsion, Joro nodded, perhaps in thanks at his understanding. Truthfully, Wolf was just as sickened by the idea, and hoped she would wait until they left to begin. He began to trek past her, Kuro curling back up against his chest.

"Hold it."

Wolf obeyed, just for a split second, halting before his brain had even processed the words. The compulsion was strong - one he could fight off, but not easily. He turned to her, brows furrowed in suspicion, and found she was holding a small cloth bag similar to a coin purse out to him. His arms full, Joro dropped it into Kuro's hands instead.

"I cannot offer you any more aid at the moment. I have already lost many of my children here. But should you need it . . . "

Curiosity ate at him, but he merely bowed the best he could with Kuro in his arms and continued on his way.

He walked with Kuro still tucked protectively against him until the grass became green again, until he no longer had to pretend not to hear the sickening crunches behind him, until the boy in his arms fell asleep, until the sun began to set. Until his eyes and legs and arms burned, and he could no longer ignore the grief worming through the thick armor of determination around his heart.

And if he felt the weight of the dragon around him once more, the company was certainly not unwelcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He is doing what he thinks is best._
> 
> "He's letting his fear control his judgment," Kuro snapped.
> 
> _And you are not?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT ME REALIZING IM 40 MINS LATE TO UPLOAD 
> 
> alternate title for this chapter: Baby's First Teenage Rebellion

Kuro roused from sleep with a panicked cry rising in his throat.

He barely managed to suppress it, and felt he could only credit it to the fact that he was too groggy to even move. It took time for the details of his dream to return to him - fire, and golden eyes, and a blade through his chest and a lifeless corpse with askew glasses - and when they did he had to cover his mouth against a wave of nausea. His limbs were heavy, his skin too warm, and after a moment of convincing his body to move he started to push aside the makeshift blanket that was his old kimono.

A hand stopped him, firm and quick and pushing down on his chest, and once again his heart rate spiked and a small, pathetic noise issued from his throat. His eyes followed the hand, up the metal arm, to the new haori and gruff expression.

Something in Wolf's face softened at the terror that must have shown on Kuro's face. He turned from the flickering orange that Kuro had only just noticed, and the reflection of fire dancing in his eyes vanished. Finally, the younger found himself relaxing, if only a little, and as he willed his heart to calm he realized the camp was set up in a wide patch of dry dirt surrounded by tall grass.

"I was hot," he said quietly, lamely, voice hoarse from sleep.

"You were about to throw it into the fire," Wolf replied, something soft like amusement in his equally rough voice, and he carefully extracted the kimono and began to fold it. "You did not sleep well."

It was not a question, but a statement. A correct one. "No, I didn't."

Kuro rose, and found something missing - something odd and formless he could not put his finger on. It occurred to him as he straightened and stretched that his shoulders were strangely light, and after a moment of silence he realized the missing weight could only mean -

"The dragon," he blurted.

Wolf's hand rose to rest on his own shoulder. "With me."

With Wolf? But . . . "Why?" Kuro asked lamely, and then, realizing how petulant it sounded, added, "I just don't understand its intentions."

"I think," Wolf started, but paused, shaking his head. "No matter. It should return to you."

And it did, the telltale weight of it on his shoulders equal parts relieving, familiar, and tiring. "You think?" he pressed, and Wolf leaned back on his hands.

"It kept me company," he said simply. Then, as though it was a great task to admit it, he added, "Perhaps as an apology."

It was . . . strange, certainly, to think of the dragon as anything more than a mighty god with little concern for mortal affairs. Certainly not one to care when humans died because of its existence, let alone its power. Or lack thereof - Kuro's fingers settled on the tear in his yukata at the thought. There was no sign he had been stabbed, not even scar tissue, but the memory of the blade slicing through muscle and organ was still there. The minute jolt that accompanied the painful memory did not go unnoticed.

"Kuro - "

"Why didn't it protect me?" Kuro interrupted Wolf, and oh, how his voice wobbled as he spoke. Where had this emotion come from? He had thought he was fine. "Apologies don't - they don't fix this!"

He didn't intend for his voice to rise in volume. Wolf was not the one he was angry with, even if his shinobi could have prevented this - Kuro was supposed to be impervious to harm. The dragon's blood was supposed to keep him safe, and it had failed.

"They don't," Wolf agreed, and held out his prosthetic hand in silent invitation.

Kuro could not say no, and when he took Wolf's cold metal hand he found himself tugged to the shinobi's side. Wolf's cheek pressed against the top of his head, and Kuro's fingers curled automatically into his haori. It was warm here, too, but pleasantly so, Wolf's arm snug around his back a comforting feeling.

There was something about Wolf that never failed to ease the tightness in his chest or burn behind his eyes. Kuro could not even care to marvel at how the shinobi had been the one to invite the affection.

"I'm sorry," Wolf murmured into his hair.

"For what?"

 _I should have protected you,_ were the words Kuro knew he wanted to say, but instead Wolf's hold on him only tightened minutely. Kuro was sure he believed it. Sure he blamed himself. But Wolf's failure to be there for him was not something Kuro could blame him for - not when they both expected the dragon to keep him safe, and especially not when Wolf's absence had been because he was listening to a dying man's wish.

"It's not your fault." But Wolf was not the type to listen when someone told him he was not to blame, so Kuro added, "No harm done."

It was not true. Even now, Kuro could feel the blade slicing through his flesh if he thought too long about it. But Wolf's hand squeezed his arm briefly before relaxing, a soft exhale escaping him, so quiet Kuro barely caught it. The blame Wolf could hold against himself sometimes was astonishing, and Kuro hoped it had faded at least a little with his words. After all, Wolf truly was not at fault - the dragon was.

"Hungry?" Wolf prompted quietly before Kuro could think too much on the topic, and though he was definitely not hungry - the heat combined with the thought of his injury left him rather nauseated - he accepted water and forced down some bread at Wolf's gentle request.

There was something that lingered in the shinobi's face and posture, something that weighed down his shoulders as he stoked the fire and occasionally checked their surroundings, but after observing him over the waterskin for some minutes Kuro decided it was not guilt. At least, not _only_ guilt. If Wolf felt guilty, he would not look at Kuro at all; instead he glanced back to him every once in a while, brow creased with something inscrutable.

"Where are we headed next?" Kuro asked. Wolf's gaze finally settled.

"We passed through a village while you still slept." That explained where the food came from. "I was given directions to the next one to the west, though it is farther south than I hoped to go."

Kuro supposed going off the beaten path was not an option when they did not know the terrain. "How long until we get there?"

"Roughly two days' walk." Wolf settled near the fire once more, though Kuro could see he still itched to keep moving. "Sleep. You need it."

Something was beginning to itch at the back of Kuro's mind. "I don't think I can," he said honestly, and watched curiously as Wolf's jaw twitched. "Is something the matter?"

But Wolf denied it with a shake of his head, albeit one that came a beat too late to be convincing. "You should still attempt rest," was what he said instead of _no_ in an unsurprising display of evasion. "It will be sunrise soon."

Frustration tugged the corners of Kuro's mouth downwards. Had Wolf forgotten that he had promised to speak his mind? That he could trust Kuro with anything? He did not have to stew anymore, to hide, to deal with his worries alone, yet he averted his gaze anyway as though it meant nothing - _just talk to me, for goodness' sake -_

Kuro forced himself to inhale, then exhale, a few times until the indignance simmered. It was the stress talking, he knew. Whatever ailed Wolf would not be revealed by being angry. If pushed, he would not confide in Kuro. He _knew_ that.

So softly, he asked, "Sit with me?"

And after a moment's hesitation, Wolf did. Only a few minutes passed with Kuro's head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, before he did, in fact, fall back asleep.

* * *

A splash of sunlight filtering through the trees and landing directly in Kuro's eyes was what woke him once more, and he straightened and yawned before realizing Wolf was nowhere to be seen. Their belongings remained untouched and not packed up, however, so Kuro pushed down the concern and calmed himself with the thought that Wolf would have woken him were anything serious happening.

He had not had nightmares during this short rest, though Kuro was not positive he had even slept long enough to dream. With the weight of the dragon around his shoulders, however, he did his best not to think about it.

Not too far from their camp was a small stream he could hear bubbling from the tent, so he went in search for it - perhaps Wolf had gone that way to refill water. Kuro could do with washing some of the blood from himself, anyway, so with cautious hesitance and a frequent glance over his shoulder he made his way to the water's edge.

There was not a soul in sight when he arrived. The merry gurgling of the water and the quick flitting of tiny fish in the shallows made for a calm atmosphere that soothed Kuro's worries somewhat. The sun reflected delightfully off the water, lighting the area nicely, and Kuro stepped past the reeds and onto the muddy edge to dip his hands into the water.

The light and fish made for a lack of a reflection, so Kuro had to go by feel to get the blood off of his face and arms. There was little on his new yukata, thankfully, though the tears still remained - he would have to remember to sew it shut soon with the supplies Joro had gifted them. The water was cool and refreshing on his skin under the heat of the sun, the movement of the fish charming and entrancing, and for just a moment Kuro could pretend all was well.

And then there was the snap of a twig behind him.

Kuro whirled around, heart thundering, and his bare foot slipped in the mud. He barely managed to catch his balance with his foot submerged in the shallows, and he was certain for a moment that the near-fall had sealed his fate, had given his adversary ample time, an opportunity, to strike -

But Wolf only stood there, an arm length's away, hand outstretched as though he was about to catch Kuro from his fall. It took a moment of Kuro panting and clutching at his chest, right over the hole, before he could convince his panicked brain and pounding heart that everything was fine.

"Kuro."

"Where were you?" It came out more accusatory than Kuro intended, but if Wolf took offense he did not show it.

"I collected extra water and scouted the road." Wolf came closer, holding out a hand, and Kuro took it to step out of the stream. The twig snapping, Kuro realized a moment later from Wolf's silent footfalls, was probably intentional - likely an attempt to warn Kuro that Wolf was there without startling him, even if it hadn't worked. "I did not think you would wake while I was out."

"Well," Kuro hesitated briefly at the lack of any real response and finally said, "good morning."

Wolf's lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. "Good morning," he echoed. "Are you ready to go?"

A curious question, as though they really had the luxury to sit around and wait, but an appreciated sentiment nonetheless. Kuro nodded and let Wolf lead the way back to camp, the air about them still and quiet. Upon attempting to help Wolf dismantle the tent, he was waved off to wait, so Kuro stood back helplessly to watch while the shinobi gathered their things. It took mere minutes for Wolf to have everything packed up and ready without his help.

Wolf never needed his help. Even when he did require aid, it was never Kuro's.

Shocked at the sudden thought, Kuro almost missed Wolf's quiet prompt to start walking. Fighting the urge to shake his head free of such sentiments, Kuro followed by Wolf's side as they continued on to the next leg of the journey.

They did not speak much as they walked; along with the oppressive heat, there was little to say. With the events of the past day still hanging heavy over their heads, it felt _wrong_ to chat as they usually did. To banter, to discuss plans, to talk about anything and everything when only a sunrise had passed since Aurelio -

\- since Kuro -

Kuro fumbled for Wolf's hand before he even realized he was doing so, and Wolf squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

Never one to question him, always there for him. Wolf rarely faltered, never backed down, always supported and protected Kuro - and what did he get in return? Occasional thanks? His life in danger? Death? The same as everyone who came into contact with Kuro, and Wolf was unlucky enough to get to experience it time and time again. Not like others, their lives cut short merely for knowing him, for caring, for helping -

The sight of Aurelio's blood-soaked shirt and pale face was burned into his mind, the sensation of metal slicing through his own torso refusing to leave him fully, and though Kuro could finally breathe past the thoughts he still grew more hopeless with every passing second. The weight around his shoulders, likely meant to be consoling, only served to drag him down further.

He wished desperately he could think about something else, anything else. Be more like Wolf, who kept looking forward, kept walking, a pillar of strength as he kept the both of them moving toward their goal. Wolf, who had experienced the same loss, and was not allowing it to drag him down - Wolf, who was capable and reliable and held them both afloat when Kuro could not.

This was not even the first time. They had watched others die for them just on this journey, had grieved their losses. Wolf consoled him not only through grief, but through fear and pain, as well. Wolf was always there, and truly, Kuro asked himself again, for what? What did he gain?

Wolf may have worried about growing useless, but he would only be Kuro's equal if he did. Kuro could not save those they had lost, either. Kuro could only rely on others to help him, and watch as they were cut down for his sake, one by one, dropping like flies. Kuro was not a child anymore; he could not continue to force others to make up for his defenselessness.

"Kuro," Wolf spoke into the suffocatingly humid air, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Your thoughts are loud."

"I'm sorry."

Wolf's fingers twitching minutely in his grasp told Kuro that was not what he wanted to hear, but the shinobi was patient when he asked, "Would you share them?"

Far more patient than Kuro had ever been when Wolf was working through his own issues. So good to him that Kuro almost denied the request, unwilling to place even more burden on the shinobi -

"You can say no," Wolf added quietly, "but I am here to listen."

Wolf listened plenty, be it orders or questions or even just Kuro's rambling filling the silence. Wolf had always preferred listening - this journey had made him so talkative Kuro nearly forgot it.

It was a struggle, truly, for Kuro to convince himself that Wolf would only ask if he was certain - a lengthy internal battle not to paint Wolf in such a light that he would only tell Kuro what he wanted to hear. Wolf was eager to please Kuro, but never through deception or dishonesty.

Wolf cared about Kuro, or at least the younger liked to think so.

"I want to learn to fight," Kuro said.

Wolf's hand went rigid in his own.

It was not even what Kuro had intended to say. There was much running through his head, thoughts painfully overactive, so full of blood and lingering pain and guilt and an overarching sense of _worthlessness_ that the only natural progression was to _do something about it._ The words came unbidden to his lips and were in the air before he had the time to mull them over, and yet he did not disagree with them.

To learn to wield a sword, to become helpful, to lessen the burden he created - it was about time Kuro started to pull his weight.

"Absolutely not," was not the response he expected, and all Kuro could feel was defensive indignance in return.

"Why not?" It was shamefully close to petulant, no doubt unhelpful to his case, and Kuro could feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I want to help!"

"You help plenty," Wolf replied with coolness so delicate it could shatter in a second. "You speak with the locals, you negotiate, you are diplomatic. You do not need a blade - you _should not_ need a blade. I will take care of the rest."

"And when you can't do it alone?" Kuro pressed.

Wolf stopped in his tracks, and Kuro snatched his hand from the shinobi's suffocating grasp. In its place, Wolf's fingers clenched and unclenched - it was an unkind, unfair challenge, but so was it unkind and unfair for Wolf to shelter Kuro further when it was unwanted.

"You are a _child."_

It was said with all the strength of a man whose patience hung on by a very thin thread. It was not enough to smother Kuro's anger.

"I will not be a child forever," he snapped back. "You can't protect me for my entire life!"

Wolf was quiet for a long moment, so long that Kuro's fury began to simmer and he wondered if he had not struck a nerve. It - it had been his intention, but -

"Watch me," Wolf finally ground out, and continued down the path.

Wolf had done many questionable things in serving Kuro. Aside from the obvious - murder and deceit and foul play - he had been known to hide things from Kuro, to lie to him, to disobey him. All in Kuro's best interests, of course, always shown to be for his well-being, and Kuro could not fault him for it. After all, such disobedience was the reason Kuro was still alive now.

But to deny Kuro - to refuse him straight to his face - !

Were it not for the very real fear that Wolf would just throw him over his shoulder if he refused to move, Kuro would have remained rooted to the spot in defiance. Instead, he drug his feet and lagged several paces behind as they continued on their way.

* * *

"Why?"

The silence had been killing Kuro, but he would not break first. He refused to be the first to speak, to give in, to concede defeat. So when Wolf finally spoke up from his place stoking the fire, barely audible over the crackling of wood and chirping of crickets, Kuro nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Why what?" he asked warily, placing his hand over his chest to calm his racing heart.

"Why do you wish to learn?"

"I told you," Kuro said, irritation working into his tone, "I want to _help."_

"And I told you it is not necessary," Wolf replied coolly, infuriatingly so. "You are aware of that. So what is the real reason?"

"The _real - ?!"_ The sudden, burning anger that response elicited had Kuro fumbling for words. "That _is_ the real reason! Whatever your pride may tell you, your blade isn't enough to keep me safe! That day _proved_ that!"

There was the distinct sensation of claws digging into his shoulder, eliciting a sharp wince, and the disapproval that radiated from the site was almost enough to shock Kuro into guilt. Almost enough to prevent the memories of that day from flooding back. Almost.

"It was not my blade that failed that day." Wolf's voice was strained. "Or were you lying when you told me it was not my fault?"

He - !

"I - !"

He had . . . a point, but -

The anger simmered, but what could Kuro say to that? How could he argue like this? He _knew_ that was not the point he was trying to make, not trying to insult Wolf or make him seem useless - he _knew_ Wolf worried about becoming unneeded, no matter how much Kuro had convinced him it could not happen - but he simply could not find the right words, his vocabulary lacking for the first time in his life.

None of his diplomacy could ever have prepared him to argue with Wolf.

"You," he finally said, "are being unfair." And he knew that to be true - Wolf knew, too. He knew he was twisting Kuro's words, his intent, but Kuro could not understand _why._

Wolf almost _laughed._ It was a derisive sound that escaped him, so short and ugly it had to be unintentional.

"You told me once that you wanted to learn about the world." Wolf's voice was not hard when he spoke again, but the set of his jaw and the glare he directed at the fire were. "Here is a lesson for you - _everything_ is unfair."

The dragon was heavier than it had ever been, an unspoken plea to stop, to bite his tongue down on the shapeless retort forming behind his lips. Amazingly, Kuro obeyed, but he kept his back to Wolf when he laid down, and did not manage much sleep that night, equal parts the fault of spite and nightmares.

* * *

The dragon had abandoned Kuro's shoulders in favor of Wolf's.

The tension between them was palpable, so thick and heavy that Kuro could slice through it with a tanto - if he _had_ one. Stuck shadowing Wolf instead of walking beside him, he drug his feet through the dirt, kicking up annoying clouds that dusted his legs brown - which ached from walking in a way they never had before - and dirtied his yukata. His stomach growled and he covered it with irate hands - they had just eaten perhaps an hour before, so that was just another nuisance to add to the pile. No amount of stomping or huffing out annoyed sighs seemed to get Wolf's attention - or the dragon's. Or maybe it did, and they were _both_ ignoring him, and perhaps that was the most infuriating part.

He could understand Wolf fighting him on this - well, no, he really couldn't, but Wolf was Wolf and even if a shinobi was supposed to be logical Wolf was not a normal shinobi - but the dragon had been there. The dragon had watched it happen. The dragon had _failed to stop it._

Kuro began to cough as the dirt he kicked up settled in his throat, and rolled his eyes when _that_ was what caught Wolf's attention, if only long enough to be sure it was nothing serious.

The dragon had seen everything, known everything, and the message was clear - it took Wolf's side anyway. And, as with a million other things at the moment, Kuro _could not figure out why._

Another day of stiff, silent travel took them to the next village, where they restocked on food and searched for an inn - or rather, Wolf restocked, and Kuro was as short and uncooperative as possible when speaking for him. He almost did not want to speak at all - wanted to keep silent protest and hold their amenities ransom until Wolf gave in - but in a battle of willpower (and hunger), Kuro had no hope of winning. They were equally stubborn, but Wolf was more capable.

And oh, how that thought stung and simmered and ached. Wolf was capable, and here, without his title, Kuro was nothing but a child, no matter how much he grew.

It was after perhaps an hour of such behavior, a cross of wallowing and silent protest, that Wolf inevitably grew tired. There was a well in the center of the village, and it was here he stopped and turned to his charge, clearly frustrated at the lack of progress they were making. For the first time since their argument had started - a day, maybe a day and a half with the sun setting? - Wolf touched him, but only by steering him to sit with firm hands on his shoulders.

"Stay," he ordered. "I will return."

"And if I don't?" was Kuro's instinctive snap back.

It was so stupid, so childish - this had absolutely nothing to do with their fight, Kuro was just so angry and felt unheard and it was growing into an ugly, insatiable need to spite Wolf at every turn, and the shinobi was not unaffected. He paused halfway through turning, glared back at Kuro, and the boy almost recoiled at the look in his eyes. It was as though his gaze was a threat all in its own - if Kuro did not obey for this, this tiny request, this instance where Wolf _was not asking much,_ the thin line of patience he had been treading (the line that Kuro had been stomping all over) was liable to snap.

"Stay. _Put."_

Kuro had never heard that tone in his life. Not just toward himself, but toward anyone - not just from Wolf, but from anyone. A spark of fear had Kuro instinctively hunching his shoulders and clasping his hands in his lap, and for just an instant before Wolf turned away from him he caught a glimpse of his expression softening.

Before Wolf was out of sight, a familiar weight settled in Kuro's lap, and it slowed the heartbeat he had not noticed had spiked.

The dragon felt . . . bigger, somehow. It was something he had hardly noticed, only vaguely wondered about for a while, but with the sheer amount of space it took up on his lap he was sure of it now. What would have led to such a phenomenon, Kuro was unsure, and if the dragon knew it was not telling.

It was a long time he spent sitting there, watching the sun dip behind the houses and people return inside their homes, so long that Kuro almost began to worry that Wolf would not return. It was absurd, of course; Wolf was irate, but more mature than to abandon him over a fight. Right? It was silly to worry - Wolf would return, nothing would happen to Kuro in his absence, this wasn't last time, they'd go back to arguing once Kuro knew he was safe again and it'd be _fine -_

_You should not fight._

It startled Kuro to hear the voice; the dragon had not manifested its thoughts so tangibly since they met the King of the Eastern Sea, and then, it had spoken through its heir. Now, the sound echoed through his head, and were it not for the tone being so drastically different from his own voice Kuro might have assumed it was something far sillier. His conscience, perhaps.

"Wolf is just - he's being stubborn," Kuro muttered.

 _As are you._ The dragon paused as though taking a deep, soothing breath. _He is doing what he thinks is best._

"He's letting his fear control his judgment," Kuro snapped, and if he could see the dragon he knew it would be cocking its head at him.

_And you are not?_

"I'm being honest," Kuro said defensively, and the dragon's aged, deep voice was an amused scoff in his head.

_With whom?_

Even if the dragon was not truly his conscience, it was sure acting like one. Kuro opened his mouth to retort - _what is that supposed to mean, what do you know, get out of my head -_

Feet wandered into his view, and Kuro jumped at the sight, jerking his head up and almost sighing in relief to find it was only Wolf. For too long a moment, he forgot his irritation, and Wolf's voice was not unkind when he spoke once more, controlled and even.

"I apologize for losing my temper. Come."

It took a long while for Kuro to remember he was supposed to be angry, so glad that Wolf even came back that he nearly forgot everything else. Instead he noted how Wolf was gone for so long, how anything could have happened, how the dragon's presence was not a relief and how Wolf seemed to return empty-handed so _why did he leave for so long?_

He hadn't even the sense to drag his feet moodily until they had walked past at least four houses, and it was as he regained his sense that Wolf decided to speak again.

"I will ask you one more time," he said, and already Kuro began to bristle. _There_ was his indignance, flaring back up at what sounded so simple but was undoubtedly a challenge. "Why do you truly want to fight?"

And Kuro opened his mouth to retort, and claws dug into his shoulder, and he clamped his mouth shut. _As are you,_ the dragon had sighed when Kuro had complained that Wolf was being stubborn, and he knew he could not stick to his guns. _With whom,_ the dragon had challenged when Kuro defended his honesty, and he knew there was something he was hiding from himself. Intentionally? He was not sure.

All he knew was that he could still feel the initial burn and deep ache of steel impaling his flesh, skewering him like fresh meat, rendering him speechless and immobile and he _never wanted to feel like that again -_

"Kuro?"

Wolf's voice was hesitant, worried. Always putting Kuro's well-being first. Always setting aside everything, even their feud, to make sure he was alright.

"Wolf," Kuro answered, and why was his voice cracking? Why was his vision blurring? "I'm _scared."_

 _Oh,_ he thought as he said it, and felt something rough and scaly nuzzle reassuringly against his cheek for a brief moment. Wolf's sigh was weary but gentle, and he lagged back to rest a guiding hand on Kuro's shoulder so they could continue to walk.

"Of course you're scared," he said. "It's only natural."

"I don't _want to be,"_ Kuro all but cried out, and covered his mouth against a bubble that rose in his chest and would undoubtedly escape as a sob if he allowed it to be. This was not what he had wanted. This emotion, this weakness - how could he convince Wolf he could be a warrior when he wept like a child? "I'm so tired of being scared! I'm always scared by something or other, but not like this - never like this - e-every time I'm alone I'm so terrified a-and when I close my eyes I can still _f-feel it - !"_

They were in the middle of the street when Wolf halted in his tracks and pulled Kuro close, but there was nobody around to see, no one to complain or judge. Kuro's fingers curled automatically in his haori and hid his face in Wolf's chest and the embrace was warm and familiar and smelled like home. His mind was an angry tug-of-war between a piece of him that had not even realized how deeply he missed this closeness, and another part of him that seethed that here he was again, as always, weeping like a child and seeking comfort he should not need.

It was not until his tears subsided that Wolf pulled away, hands firm on Kuro's shoulders, face soft and patient as Kuro rubbed his eyes. "I-I'm sorry," the younger hiccuped. "I told you I wasn't a child, but I . . . "

"Learning to fight will not make you grow up," Wolf said, and Kuro cast his eyes downward. "Nor will it erase your fear. You will always be afraid."

Kuro snapped his head up at that, beginning to protest, "I'll always - ?"

Raising his voice, pointedly, Wolf continued, _"However,_ learning to defend yourself can help you harness that fear."

And then he pulled away the side of his haori that was not tied down and reached behind him, and pulled a sheathed blade from his obi. He balanced it between both palms, and for a long moment all Kuro could see was the night he was taken by Genichiro - Wolf kneeling before him, accepting Kusabimaru - but this time it was Kuro himself that hesitantly took the offered blade into his own hands. It was shorter than Wolf's, and heavier than expected, and the sheath plain and unmarked, but it was -

"For me?" Kuro whispered, and where he thought there might be excitement he only felt apprehension. More heavy than the blade was the weight of its promise, and he met Wolf's stare with wide eyes. "I thought you - " he started, and then, "How did you get this?"

"It does not take many words to show an example of what I am looking for," Wolf replied, sounding almost amused. "Now come. I have much to teach you."

"I thought you didn't want me to learn," Kuro said, following at Wolf's side as they continued down the path. "Not that I'm complaining, I just . . . "

"I still do not." The words were not unkind, but not soft, either. "But I spoke with the dragon, and we agree - to fight for yourself is different than to fight for me."

"It spoke to you too?"

A simple nod in response. It was . . . it was as though the dragon was growing stronger throughout their journey, able to manifest more. Hadn't he remarked on its size, as well? Perhaps as they grew closer to its home? Time would tell, Kuro decided.

"Say . . . " Wolf's inquisitive hum prompted Kuro to continue. "Are . . . are you ever afraid?"

It was a silly question. Everyone felt fear now and then, and surely Wolf was no different. But what Kuro did not expect was for Wolf to sigh and reply, "Always."

Shifting to hold his new blade in one arm, he reached for Wolf's hand with the other, and the shinobi accepted it with familiar warmth.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as Wolf was attempting to teach Kuro to strike a flint that a chill raced up their spines, and they both froze.
> 
> And then a voice called out to them in the dark, "You know this shrine is haunted, right?"

The scuffle of feet sliding and catching against wood was deafening, and Wolf let up just as Kuro began to fall back, catching a fistful of his yukata and pulling him upright.

"Again."

The swing of a sword, the clash of metal, and Wolf's shoulder protested at the force of it. Kuro was still standing, but his face screwed up with the effort of the deflection, and he was using both hands to keep his leverage.

"You will lose fingers like that. Again."

This time when he swung, Kuro was caught off guard, and though Wolf let up on the pressure to avoid harming him, the movement Kuro did manage had Kusabimaru sliding harmlessly down the length of his own blade. Not a terrible move, but unintentional, so nothing to praise.

"Faster. Again."

It had been going on for long before that, and went on long after, again and again, until Kuro grew tired and too slow and Wolf called for a break. He was not a kind teacher, nor a cruel one; he remembered still the nightmare that was his own training with Owl and Lady Butterfly, and would never wish that upon anyone, let alone Kuro. So he halted in his onslaught and stepped back, sheathing Kusabimaru, and watched Kuro mirror him carefully.

"I'm hungry," Kuro sighed as he flopped onto the floor on his back, and the old rotted floorboards creaked beneath him. "My arms ache. And my legs. And everything."

It was more conversational than a complaint, though Wolf quirked an eyebrow. It had not been long since they had breakfast together. "Your legs?" he echoed. "We need to work on your form, then."

"You told me it was fine," Kuro protested, and that was true - it was not perfect, but enough to hold his ground.

"But if it is causing you pain - "

"It's not," Kuro said quickly, then clarified, "I mean, I don't think so? My legs have been aching for a while."

"A while? You have not mentioned it."

Kuro sat up to address him properly, and Wolf settled cross-legged across from him. "A day or so," he admitted, and oh, that would be why - they were not talking at the time. "It's not the worst pain. I mean, it doesn't _feel_ like something I should worry about. It's just uncomfortable."

And suddenly Wolf had an inkling suspicion. "And have you often been hungry so soon after meals?"

"Well, I don't want to eat all our rations - "

"They're growing pains," Wolf said simply. "We will make sure you eat extra."

"Growing pains?" And then Kuro was leaping to his feet. "Wolf, stand up!"

It took every ounce of self-control in his body to not roll his eyes, but Wolf obeyed, and watched with amusement as Kuro sized him up, then stepped closer and drew an invisible line with his hand from the top of his head to Wolf's bicep.

"I'm almost up to your shoulder!" Kuro announced triumphantly, bouncing on his heels. Kuro liked to say he was growing, but actions like this showed he was still a child - but that was okay. Wolf would not complain that he was still young and bright. "I bet someday I'll be taller than you!"

Wolf could hardly help his scoff. _Everyone_ grew taller than him. Emma, and more recently Aurelio, were the only people he had met in his life to break this rule. No doubt Kuro would join the majority, for he still had plenty of growing to do, though as little as he was Wolf wondered if perhaps he would not manage to be very much taller.

"If you are still that energetic," Wolf said instead of addressing the taunt, "we can keep training."

Immediately Kuro pouted, then clapped his hands together in a plea. "Can we eat first? I really am hungry."

He truly was so young. Were it not for the fresh memory of the dragon's reassurances - _he is growing, he will not always be so little or naive -_ Wolf would wonder if he was making the right decision, accepting to teach him like this. Relenting, he said, "We will need to get more food from the village."

The last one they had stopped at was hardly large enough to be called a village, and had little to spare; this one was larger, but overpopulated, so there had been no beds available at the inn. Wolf hoped that did not extend to other resources.

A content quiet settled over them - not suffocating or tense like before but comfortable and perhaps a little tired - as they made their way down the rickety steps to the worn dirt path. The shrine was clearly long-abandoned, any sign of the deity it was meant to worship long gone, and the damage looked an awful lot like someone had attempted to burn it to the ground and failed miserably. Though it was not an opportune shelter, it would work as a roof over their heads; when Wolf had asked around, all of the inns claimed to be packed.

And there was . . . something about the place. Something that Wolf could not place a finger on, but did not seem overly threatening. It did, however, nag at his curiosity.

The market was a little thing, but active nonetheless, and thankfully a farmer or two had plenty of surplus to sell. It was almost a surprise that Kuro's stomach never rumbled during his ogling of various fruits and vegetables, and after a brief exchange where Wolf confirmed he planned on them staying for a day or two, Kuro managed to convince him that they should make a stew. Something they could not keep leftovers of, but that would not matter if they were lingering long enough to finish it off - and there had been a ceremonial firepit by the altar that they could use for a safe flame.

As such, Wolf was persuaded to purchase spices and a pot to cook it all in. Though it was large and not very mobile, it was cheap enough that neither would be heartbroken to leave it behind, although it would be inconvenient. Perhaps, however, bringing Kuro to the market on an empty stomach had been a mistake, for soon he was eyeing a stall laden with sweets.

And Wolf thought _he_ had the sweet tooth. It had been too long since he had allowed himself sugar, and his mouth watered at the thought; judging by the sly look Kuro shot him when asking if they could get some, the little fiend knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

"Two of those," Kuro was saying, because Wolf at least understood that much Mandarin, "and two of those, please!"

And of course the baker was absolutely charmed by him where Wolf was exasperated, wrapping a few cream puffs and raspberry tarts in thin paper and chatting quite animatedly with him. Wolf understood very little, but when the conversation turned sour, he was immediately attentive.

"I saw you two come through last night - have you a safe place to stay?"

"Yes, ma'am. We're settled in the shrine up the hill."

She froze at that, hand hovering awkwardly between them as she held the package out toward him, but too close to herself for him to comfortably take it. "That old place? Surely I could find you a spare bed or two here. There's no need to go out there."

"We wouldn't want to trouble you." Kuro held his hand out politely, but she still withheld the pastries a moment longer before placing them in his grasp. "We're doing just fine - usually we don't even have a roof!"

His attempt at a reassuring smile did not sway her, and even if Wolf did not understand the words he could pick up on her growing agitation. Subtly, he moved closer to Kuro, prepared to . . . to do _something,_ if things went awry, but he could not fathom what.

"Oh," she replied, unconvinced and still fretting, "oh, dear. A sweet boy like you really shouldn't be up there. There's - there's danger at night, you know? You should stay in the village."

Curiously, no such concern for Wolf - not even a glance sent his way. Smiling tightly, Kuro bowed and assured her, "We can handle it. Thank you for the food."

They left her there, wringing her hands and staring nervously after them, and Wolf did not miss how the other stall owners whispered behind their fans and watched them go. Not them - Kuro. Kuro, who was quick to fill Wolf in on the details once they were on the path and out of earshot, and once out of sight of any villagers he dropped his polite façade to worry at his lower lip.

"What do you think that's about, Wolf?"

What indeed. Wolf hummed low in his throat in response, deep in thought. Clearly, something about the shrine unsettled the villagers, and judging by the damage something terrible had happened there. _Danger,_ the baker had said, so painfully vague, eyes only on Kuro. What sort of danger? The sort of danger that would assault a shrine and deface its deity?

But that was the problem - it did not _feel_ dangerous there. A rotting shell of a building was not exactly welcoming, but Wolf's intuition had kept him safe and at an advantage for years, and nothing about the place gave off any sort of warning. What was it she had been talking about?

"Perhaps an old legend passed down among the villagers," Wolf suggested. The look Kuro shot him was not entirely convinced.

"Would they be _that_ worked up over a legend?" Of course Kuro had a point - Wolf was not overlooking that. He simply had little other explanation. "I don't know. I don't feel threatened there, but the people seem nice enough. Would they lie to us?"

They had no reason to, of that much Wolf was certain. If they claimed it was dangerous, even if untrue, they certainly believed it; an entire village so worried about holing up inside at night rather than risking danger under the moonlight would be an awful lot of effort to keep up a ruse.

"If there is danger," Wolf replied, a hint of finality in his tone, "I suppose we will find out." The only threat Wolf had any personal concern for was the possibility of encountering the emperor's soldiers again.

"Right." Kuro did not sound too confident, however, when he added, "I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle."

Wolf would prove him right - he would not see Kuro harmed again.

* * *

It was as Wolf was attempting to teach Kuro to strike a flint that a chill raced up their spines, and they both froze.

And then a voice called out to them in the dark, "You know this shrine is haunted, right?"

Curiously, despite the intrusion, despite how Wolf had a habit of literally leaping to the defensive, he only turned his head to survey their observer.

A woman stood at the door, and the first thing Kuro noticed was how terribly impractical her clothes seemed; fancy fabrics draped over her lithe form in a rather wasteful fashion Kuro had never seen before, not even on the locals, and her long, flowing red hair was not even held back by any sort of tie. It was a marvel there were no tangles to be seen. Her face was quite lovely, her skin pale and eyes large and innocuous, and her pink lips were curved in a delicate, polite little smile.

All in all, she looked _very_ out of place in the temple.

"That has yet to be seen," Wolf replied coolly. He did finally stand, but there was something in his relaxed posture that did not seem _right._ "Assuming you are not a spirit."

The laugh the woman gave sounded almost baffled, perhaps even offended; she tossed a few fiery strands over one shoulder, and the motion seemed to catch Wolf's eyes. "Sounds like you've just been lucky." Was that irritation in her tone? "I have a much safer place for you to stay, if you'll just follow me."

Well, _that_ was not suspicious at all. Not to mention she was speaking near-perfect Japanese, yet did not look like any Japanese person Kuro knew - where in the world had she learned it? But Wolf only gave a noncommittal noise, and Kuro found himself tugging urgently on the shinobi's sleeve.

"The child can come, too," the stranger cooed, though the look she offered Kuro was loaded with disdain; the corners of her mouth twitched as though it was taking every ounce of her composure not to scowl at him.

"Wolf?" he whispered, but Wolf only spared him an inscrutable glance.

"It would be rude to deny her," he said.

The words were simple - the hint of suggestion in them was not, and Kuro desperately wished he could tell exactly what it was Wolf was trying to say. The dragon's claws tightened around his shoulder - it was unsettled, too - and he found himself trailing helplessly behind as Wolf began to approach the woman. She drifted just out of reach as he came close, hand falling away from the doorframe, and seemed to almost float backward down the steps, her fingers crooking slightly in a beckoning gesture as a smile played at her lips.

Something was definitely wrong - but her honeyed tone had his muscles relaxing when she said, "That's it. Just keep following me." A forced relaxation, one that the dragon dispelled with another squeeze at his shoulder so hard its claws pricked his skin, and Kuro darted forward to take Wolf's hand.

"Wolf," he hissed urgently, and the woman fixed an irate gaze on him. Her mouth opened, but Wolf spoke before she could get a word in.

"She will not hurt us," Wolf murmured to him, and the woman's deep frown curled back into a more relaxed smile, and Kuro desperately wished he could believe the shinobi was speaking for himself, rather than under _her_ influence.

"Good," she purred. "You listen well. Nothing like that pesky little brat."

Wolf's hand slipped from his as she approached, and Kuro realized with a start just how far they had wandered down the path away from the shrine. They stood somewhere between the dilapidated structure and the village, far from any sort of safety - though Kuro wondered if any place was safe with this . . . was she truly a woman? Was she _human?_ The dragon's snarl ringing through his head clear as his own thoughts told Kuro this thing was most certainly not a person.

"Honestly," she said, voice sweet like honey but sour as though it had aged, "I know I'm new at this, but you're only a kid."

He wanted to creep backward as she inched forward, but found he could not move. The dragon's hackles rose, he could feel it in the tension of its grip around his shoulders, but there did not seem to be much else it could do.

"Why is it you aren't swayed? What is it about you? You _are_ human, aren't you?"

When had his feet frozen? When had he become rooted in place? Why hadn't he at least brought his katana with him?

"I guess I can get rid of you like this - I hate to be this messy, though."

And then a sword cut through the air between them, the woman recoiling, stumbling back several steps.

"That's close enough."

The woman glared down the bridge of her nose Wolf, an unflattering mixture of irritation and shock scrawled all over her features. Kuro almost failed to stifle the urge to hide behind the shinobi; were it not for his own growing irritation, he likely would have succumbed, even as he spent so much time insisting he was too mature for such things.

"What took you so long?" Kuro found himself snapping, and though he felt the dragon's hot breath huff disapprovingly against his ear Wolf did not seem nearly as offended.

"I had to get her away from the shrine," he explained, and it almost stung, how unthreatened Wolf sounded when Kuro had been terrified just moments before - still was, if he was to be honest. Turning his attention to the woman, Wolf added coolly, "I couldn't have you trying to burn it down again, _fox."_

Her scowl turned into something even uglier when Kuro whipped his head back around to stare. Something inhuman, her mouth stretching wide, eyes slanting - but she composed herself a minute later with a deep breath and complained, "Are you kidding me? _Both_ of you resisted? This has to be some kind of cosmic joke."

None of them were laughing. Wolf stepped closer, and curiously, Kuro watched the creature fold her arms and draw into herself, eyes wary. "Show us your true form."

"I think I just misjudged you," she said evasively, ignoring his command. And then she changed before their very eyes - a more pronounced nose, thinner lips, smaller eyes, and the figure under the odd clothing flattened and broadened. The voice that came out now was deeper, and . . . he? _He_ continued, "You prefer the company of men, right?"

He drew closer, and appallingly, Wolf allowed him to - up until he was close enough to point Kusabimaru at the creature's throat. "I do not prefer _any_ company of that sort," he growled, finally seemingly displeased with the stranger's antics, who held his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes. "Now show me who you really are."

Kusabimaru pressed harder against his throat, and the creature moved so quickly Kuro almost missed it - he leapt backward away from the blade, somersaulting in the air, and as he spun Kuro watched him _change._ The fabrics fell away and vanished to reveal a simple off-white toga of sorts, the flowing locks receded into a shaggy mop of hair that covered much of the creature's eyes, and its body shrunk to that of a small child's, perhaps Kuro's age - maybe a tad younger.

He was still presenting notably boyishly when he landed on his toes, the impact light and totally silent, and he shook his shaggy hair out of his face to reveal piercing green eyes and long, long lashes. Two fluffy, bright orange ears with black tips sprouted from amongst his mop of hair, and a similar tail flicked in irritation behind him.

"Am I to trust this is the real you?" Wolf asked, and the - the child? He scoffed and settled his hands on his hips.

"What does it matter who I really am?" And oddly enough, there was _hurt_ laced in the words, and his eyes narrowed. "I can be whoever I want."

"A kitsune?" Kuro's head spun at the idea - _another_ Japanese demon, so far inland of China? But the fox scowled at that.

"As if! Those little offshoots have nothing on _real_ foxes like me." His tail lashed at the mere suggestion. _"I_ am a húli jīng, and I'm a far greater fox than even the strongest of those little pests!"

A Chinese demon, yet it knew Japanese anyway? Perhaps there were greater forces at play than the lines between nations - but Kuro could not dwell on it at the moment.

"Yet you hide behind a human form," Wolf pointed out, and it rounded on him, teeth bared. Little fangs showed among them, and were it not for how very threatening the creature had seemed only a minute before, Kuro might have found it cute. "You have never hurt a human." How could he possibly know that? "Why start with us? We have done you no wrong."

"What, are you trying to get my whole life story?" the fox snapped, crossing his little arms. "If you're not going to kill me, I'll just. . . I'll go. Sorry for trying to kill you, or whatever."

There was something so pitiful in his voice, something almost shameful in the way he averted his gaze, and Kuro could not help but ask, "Where will you go?"

"Wherever I want," the fox replied bitterly, turning away. "You two aren't worth the trouble."

He leapt into the air again, performing another flip, and before their very eyes russet fur sprouted all over his body and he shrunk even further. The creature that landed was a vixen, smaller than any Kuro had ever seen, and when she turned back to glance at them Kuro was startled to see a skull fitted over her head - a _human_ skull that was missing its jaw and that her snout poked out of, despite Wolf's claim that she had never harmed a human, and those same narrow green eyes glared through the sockets.

"Wait," Kuro found himself calling out when she turned to the tree line. When she tilted her head at him, he faltered, but finally said, "We're . . . going to be making a lot of food, and there'll be a fire. If you want to join us . . . "

The fox's gaze lingered for a second longer, and then she darted off the path and vanished into the undergrowth. At her disappearance, Wolf sheathed Kusabimaru with practiced ease, shaking his head, and turned back up the path to the shrine.

"Wolf?"

"I'm sorry," Wolf automatically apologized, having the sense to look ashamed of himself. "I did not mean to scare you. I could not risk alerting the fox to my plan - "

"No," Kuro interrupted, "that's not it. I mean, it's okay. Just . . . "

Wolf spared him a glance from the corner of his eye. "Just?" he pressed.

"She mentioned something about resisting," Kuro mused. "I guess the dragon kept me safe, but what about you?"

Almost as soon as he spoke the wonder aloud, he knew the answer, and the way Wolf's shoulders tensed only confirmed his worry. "It seems," he answered carefully, "that despite Shura being very worthy of concern, its interest in me has its perks."

Kuro wished that was reassuring, but there was little to be done, and little to achieve by fretting over it for long. Still, he took the time to reach for Wolf's hand and squeeze it reassuringly - they would figure it out.

"And . . . " Kuro paused, searching for words. "You said she hadn't hurt anyone. How did you know?"

"A guess," Wolf replied, "but a likely one. She is very young, and very inexperienced."

"She had that skull."

"We do not know where she got it."

It held up, anyway - it explained why her disguises seemed so very out-of-place. The húli jīng was very clearly not familiar with any recent customs in China - or _anywhere,_ for Kuro could not think of a single place in any of his studies that presented themselves in such a way. Her method of dress and unnaturally pristine looks were far too out of place to fool anyone without her magic; without her sway, Kuro could see straight through her.

And she truly did seem so young, and as though she was hiding a terrible sadness. Kuro knew she had been attempting to lead them to their deaths, but still . . .

"I wonder what happened to her. Do you think she's what the villagers were worried about?"

"Most likely." They made their way up the creaky steps of the shrine; their uncooked food lay cold and untouched still.

"There's more to her story, isn't there?"

"I am sure."

" . . . do you think she'd tell us?"

Wolf gave a low hum in his throat that did not sound particularly hopeful. A sigh escaped Kuro's lips, and as the dragon wreathed comfortably around his shoulders, they settled before the firepit once more for Kuro to attempt to spark the flint.

He had not been successful before, and was not successful now; with every attempt by Wolf to correct his technique he only grew more frustrated. Not only was he not very good in the first place, but now his thoughts were plagued by the fox, a distracting blend of wariness and concern for it keeping his mind wandering, and on one particularly rough strike he managed to pinch a finger between the rock and flint. He almost swore aloud, but barely managed to hold it in, and Wolf's hands stretched outward to take the flint.

Before Kuro could protest - he wanted to learn, he had to figure out sometime, Wolf could not do _everything_ for him - there was a blur of orange and a flash of green and a wave of heat, and Kuro scrambled back from the firepit as it seemed to ignite completely on its own.

Seated on the other side of the fire atop an old, creaky altar, was none other than the fox.

"I could have done that myself," Kuro protested. Suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must have looked, he righted himself to kneel more properly before the fire, and the fox tossed her head.

_"Sure didn't look like it to me."_

She spoke differently than the dragon did, but strangely nonetheless; it was decidedly verbal, with both Wolf and Kuro hearing her clearly, but her mouth did not even open to make a sound. Her fluffy tail curled delicately over her paws, and she nodded toward the pot of cold ingredients.

_"You don't even have the food ready for me?"_

"Well, aren't you pushy," Kuro grumbled, but offered a smile to counter his tone.

Because she looked so comfortable on the altar, and with the angle Kuro viewed her at, she aligned perfectly with the destroyed statue - save for the skull fitted on her head.

The villagers had worshipped her here - and whatever had changed, whatever they had done to her, they desperately feared the repercussions.

 _Perhaps they should,_ Kuro thought bitterly. Whatever she had considered doing to them, his own instincts (and the dragon's lack of concern at her presence) told him she was not a violent or aggressive creature. She would not be the first demon they had met thus far with a personality far more complex than local legends would have them believe. Kuro doubted she would be the last.

But he would not push. Not with the hesitant, delicate peace between them - not with her belly rumbling almost inaudibly as the food began to emit a warm aroma. How long had she gone without eating before growing desperate enough to turn to humans for sustenance?

 _"Stop looking at me like that,"_ she snapped, and Kuro was jolted from his thoughts. _"Don't think I've totally abandoned the idea of eating_ you _instead!"_

"That would be unwise," Wolf spoke up from his place over the pot, and the fox let out an irate little growl.

"Húli," Kuro said, and then paused. "Can I call you Húli? Or do you have a name you prefer I use?"

 _"Wh - "_ The question gave her pause, as though she had not considered the idea of being addressed directly. _"I guess? I don't have a name."_

"Just you wait, Húli. The soup will taste _way_ better than we ever would!"

She left out a little huff at that, but settled down comfortably to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hewwo :))


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wolf - _Wolf!_ Dragon, _do something!"_
> 
> _Húli, I need your help._
> 
> _"Tell me what to do."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs my grubby little hands together*
> 
> cw: a whole lot of violence. *gestures vaguely at the tags* many bad things happen :))))
> 
> alternate summary: wolf + that pic of the samurai with his katana out and a cat tucked into his other arm

Húli was silent after her initial arrival.

She sat, she watched, she ate when food was offered to her, but she did not speak again. That was fine by Wolf; she was not causing trouble, so as far as he cared, she was welcome to stay with them.

Kuro seemed to worry for her, judging by the frequent looks he sent her way, and Wolf would be lying if he claimed not to be curious about her, but when offered a heaping serving of soup Kuro forgot everything but his hunger. Wolf watched him down it all with amusement before turning to his own meal, and after that, it was time to train.

Kuro's form was good, and he was a quick learner, but the problem they were running into was that Kuro was simply not very strong. His movements were precise and correct - his energy levels certainly greater than before, thanks to proper eating - but Wolf could power through his parries with no effort at all. Throughout it all, Kuro grew more and more frustrated, and Wolf inevitably called a break that saw Kuro silently stewing the entire time.

They would have to do strength training, but that was not something that would see results quickly, nor could they spend much time on it when they needed to be on the road. Kuro could probably survive a tussle with a lesser man than Wolf, at this point, but he would not be able to win.

_Perhaps I can help._

Hmm. Yes, the dragon that coiled in his lap was getting quite heavy; as it flickered briefly in his vision, he found it was getting quite large, as well. Kuro already carried its weight around his shoulders, but if he carried it differently, he could get to work on building muscle as they traveled.

"We will stop for the night," Wolf said, and Kuro rose his head from where he lay moodily on the floor to listen. "Tomorrow, we continue westward."

"But I still have training!" Kuro protested. His enthusiasm was good, at least.

"We are at a standstill," Wolf replied, and Kuro's face started to pull into that cute pout. No matter how he aged, Wolf was sure he would keep his charm. "Staying longer risks finding the emperor's men at our doorstep. Do not worry - we will start strength training tomorrow, as well."

Kuro admittedly looked more worried at that, and Wolf did not blame him - combat training and exercise were two entirely different beasts. But Kuro only nodded and moved to retrieve the bedrolls from their pack, and Húli, who had been silently watching them through her skull, curled up next to the fire with her tail over her snout.

"Good night, then, Wolf," Kuro said into the quiet, frustration replaced with softness, and Wolf offered him half a smile.

"Good night."

"Good night, Húli."

She did not even huff in response.

* * *

Between Kuro's increased appetite and the additional mouth to feed, they had actually finished the pot of soup, and Kuro stared at it with his hands on his hips as Wolf packed their things back up for the trip ahead. Húli was back on the pedestal - _her_ pedestal, Wolf had realized somewhere along the way - and was watching him with interest in those unnaturally green eyes.

"It's just such a waste of money," Kuro sighed. "We can't even take it with us."

"Perhaps we can return it to the merchant we purchased it from," Wolf offered. At least then someone else might get use of it; it was of good make, and truly was a shame if it were to be left in the shrine to collect dust.

"Hey, Húli," Kuro joked, "maybe you can keep it for future visitors!"

She rolled her eyes at that, and Kuro only smiled wider. His expression turned startled a moment later, though, as Húli suddenly leapt off the pedestal to balance on the cooking spit. She leaned over one side, peering thoughtfully at the pot, before reaching down and decisively pressing her paw against the outside coating. When she pulled back, a white imprint of her paw remained, and before their very eyes the pot began to _shrink._

 _"There,"_ she said as Kuro moved forward to take it off the spit. _"Now it's travel-sized."_ And indeed, it did fit snugly into Kuro's cupped palms.

"It's still heavy," he marveled, and Húli snorted.

 _"Well, of course it is,"_ she snapped. _"I made it more dense, is all. Press your thumb on the pawprint for a few moments and it'll go back to size, and vice versa."_ Kuro obeyed, and comically, yelped when it began to grow in his arms. He nearly toppled over at the awkward size of it, eventually opting to set it on the floor with a noisy _thunk. "You can thank me anytime."_

Judging by the double take and widening of her eyes, she did not actually expect for Kuro to brightly chirp back, "Thank you! This is really helpful!"

 _"Well,"_ Húli hesitantly replied, and not for the first time Wolf wondered when she had last been shown such appreciation, _"consider it thanks for feeding me."_

"Húli, that's - "

_"You guys should get going now before I change my mind about eating you."_

Kuro frowned but did not push. He pressed his thumb against the pawprint again, and when it had shrunk once more, placed it in the bottom of their pack so it would not crush anything. Before he walked away again, however, Wolf stopped him.

"You're carrying this today," he said.

After a surprised pause, Kuro merely shrugged it over his shoulders and replied, "Okay." Wolf could only hope he would remain as indifferent when he grew tired. Their supplies gathered, they paused at the door as Kuro glanced back to the vixen on the altar. "Well . . . goodbye, then."

Húli's tail flicked and she twitched her ears, but said nothing. With a sigh, Kuro adjusted the pack on his shoulders and led the way down the stairs, and Wolf followed with one last glance at the fox, looking so lonely in the rotting structure, surrounded by the broken remnants of her past.

"I hope she finds something better," Kuro said as they started down the path, and Wolf could only hum agreement.

"She deserves it."

"I'm glad you agree." Kuro's fingers ghosting at the back of Wolf's hand was a familiar sensation, a common question, and he accepted it with little thought. "What did they do to her?"

"We can only speculate," Wolf replied, but he had a pretty good guess by what they already knew. She had been worshipped, and now she was not; whatever falling-out there had been, it had wounded her deeply, and induced rightful fear in the villagers in turn. The better question was what had pushed them to turn against her. "But for now, we must move on."

After all, they had targets on their heads, and Wolf did not trust the villagers; more cutthroat men after their bounty would arrive, of that Wolf was certain. It was unavoidable. He hoped, however, that they could pull far enough ahead to get more training in for Kuro before they ran into any more threats.

"I know," Kuro replied, and if he did not sound all that enthusiastic, Wolf could hardly blame him.

It was as hot as ever as they trekked back toward the village, but the trees on either side of the path arched overhead and granted some shade from the morning sun. With each pass through a patch of sunlight, Wolf could clearly see the dragon about Kuro's shoulders; it shimmered under the golden rays, translucent but surprisingly visible, and despite how it coiled heavily around Kuro its weight did not seem to bother him. In fact, its gradual growth had likely resulted in quite the desensitization to its presence.

It was peaceful on the path; truly, there was nothing going to or from the shrine that ever indicated any sort of danger, even with the darkness visible from further in the treeline and the noises rattling from the bushes. There was an inherent calm to the path that came with the protection of a deity that kept his mind at ease, even as Wolf thought of Húli and considered Kuro's training and recalled the suspicious behavior of the villagers.

Wolf was in the process of deciding to wait until they were outside of the village to show Kuro exercises when a shout sounded from the torii leading up to the shrine. Startled, they glanced up in unison to see some nameless man approaching them - one Wolf vaguely remembered seeing, but not meeting. He slowed to a halt before Kuro, who could only stare at him as he spoke.

Perhaps, Wolf thought, he should make more effort to learn Mandarin. As it were, he took initiative to step forward between them, protective urges rising, and politely inclined his head toward the torii; they needed to be on their way.

"He says he's surprised to see me alive," Kuro muttered, tone bitter, and it took immense strength for Wolf to hold in an irate sigh.

"We are leaving," he said curtly, and with an odd sense of pride heard Kuro repeat it in a similarly impatient tone of voice. The light breeze had more bushes rustling as they pushed past the villager.

The man protested, but Wolf could hear Kuro's footfalls follow obediently behind him - and another, louder rustle in the bushes. The man gave an alarmed noise as they all turned to look - and Wolf and Kuro shared knowing looks.

"You don't have to stalk us," Kuro called out. "Just come out."

And after a momentary pause, a little fox slunk out of the bushes.

Several things happened all at once - Kuro began to approach her, a wide smile on his face; the man moved her way, as well, his teeth bared in an angry scowl as his fingers stretched toward the skull on her head; green flames began to dance at Húli's paws and jaw, and a sharp, threatening bark tore from her throat like thunder. Wolf was the fastest on his feet, however, and he shoved his way between Húli and the villager with his hand on Kusabimaru's hilt and anger rising in his chest.

"Enough."

The villager may not have known their language, but Wolf's tone spoke volumes more than words ever could. A warning, a _threat_ that the demon within him rumbled with pleasure to hear, and as the man backed off and began shouting and gesturing wildly Wolf took a deep breath to force the fury down before he could dwell too long on that presence.

Wolf turned halfway, still keeping an eye on the villager lest he attempt to take advantage of some perceived weakness, and knelt down to offer a hand to Húli. "Are you joining us?"

Her hackles had yet to fall, but the flames arcing through her fur had dwindled to little green sparks. Past the sockets of the skull, her otherworldly green eyes surveyed him a moment - and in the blink of an eye, the sparks fizzled out and she leapt into the crook of his prosthetic arm. She truly was so small. He held her protectively to his side, and when he turned back to Kuro and the man he found them speechless, with varying degrees of approval on their faces.

The man erupted into outraged shouting, but before Wolf could act Kuro balled his hands into fists and shouted something in Mandarin that Wolf had an inkling feeling meant _shut up._ The next few moments of scolding were completely incomprehensible to Wolf, but he could feel the anger rolling off Kuro's words like a tangible wave, and for a moment all Wolf really observed was how fluent Kuro had become in the language to be able to yell at someone so fluidly.

Caught up in his pride as he was and willing to let Kuro sort it out himself - he was not interested in coming between them as Kuro got in the man's face about whatever he was saying - Wolf did not catch the man's hands rising until it was too late, did not see them wrapping around Kuro's shoulders, then _pushing -_

But Kuro had practiced his stance, not even budging, and the area went deathly quiet. And even with Wolf stepping forward to interject, rage flooding his veins at the sheer audacity of the movement, Kuro was already shoving the man back.

And his stance was not nearly as stable as Kuro's.

"Did you really try to _push me?!"_ Too angry to maintain Mandarin, Kuro slipped back into his mother tongue, and he pushed the unsteady man again so he toppled to the ground. "What is _wrong_ with you?! 'Trying to protect me,' you are _so_ full of - !"

"Kuro," Wolf interrupted before the swear slipped out, and though he still seethed his rage was cooled with satisfaction; Kuro was more than capable of taking care of his own fight. "Enough. Let's go."

Kuro looked rather like he was about to give Wolf his own tongue-lashing, but after a moment he huffed and spun on his heel to storm off down the path. Wolf made sure to glare pointedly down at the villager before following suit, leaving the man pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbing at his back.

He shouted out one last thing, and Kuro spun toward him, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled back, "I don't care!"

Well. Perhaps Wolf would have to ask what exactly the man had said. Later, though, because Kuro needed time to cool off.

The rest of their walk to the village was silent and tense, foul moods abound; Húli still had not spoken from her spot in Wolf's arms, Kuro was still visibly fuming, and the dragon had shifted to stare over Kuro's shoulder as though expecting the villager to follow them at any moment. If he was wise, Wolf thought, he would not dare to try; this time, Wolf would be the one to face him, and he was not feeling very merciful toward anyone that dared to pick a fight with a child half his size.

Not a child, Wolf reminded himself, but speaking of said not-child -

Kuro gave a sudden, frustrated growl and exclaimed, "I have to stop thinking about this! Wolf, what were some of those exercises you mentioned?"

It was something else they could all focus on. Gently, he set Húli on the ground, and put Kuro to work lunging as he walked; it was a simple warm-up, but keeping Kuro's thoughts on maintaining proper form was enough for the moment.

* * *

They were perhaps an hour out of the village when Kuro finally spoke again, and he sounded remarkably more content - albeit a bit out of breath - when he asked, "So what persuaded you to join us, Húli?"

Húli had been trotting alongside them for a while, finding it too warm to continue being held in Wolf's arms. Her pace faltered for half a moment before she said in an unconvincingly airy tone, _"There was nothing left there for me."_

Kuro hummed in response, not pushing, and they fell back into quiet. The sun was overbearing, with both Kuro and Wolf's clothing sticking uncomfortably to their skin, and even the dragon draped over Kuro's arms to add weight to his arm curls closed its eyes lazily against the light and heat. The walk was stuffy and uncomfortable and none of them were feeling particularly sociable.

But it was not like Kuro to let the day be too quiet, so he changed topics not even a full minute later. "So how do you know Japanese?"

Húli gave a derisive snort. _"All human languages are the same to me. How do you think your little dragon knows it, too?"_

The dragon seemed to puff up with indignance, and the vixen rolled her eyes and tossed her head in response. "He's a god," Kuro pointed out. "You aren't."

 _"I was a deity,"_ Húli replied, averting her gaze, _"once upon a time."_

Yet again there was nothing more to say. Húli seemed skilled at shutting down conversation, for nobody dared to push further on the topic of her past. After all, everyone had their secrets; Húli would likely never know the depth of Wolf or Kuro's pasts, and they could not expect her to spill everything about her own. That did not, however, stop the twinge of pity that tugged at Wolf's heart or the frown twisting Kuro's lips.

Whatever her story, Wolf hoped she could steer its course in a better direction with the two of them.

The day's walk was uneventful otherwise. When the sun reached its highest peak, Kuro gave up on the exercises, his enthusiasm drained by the heat, and Wolf found himself impressed he had even lasted so long. The map they had picked up in the village before things grew strange told them they were about a day and a half's walk to the next hamlet to the west, but the villagers had claimed it abandoned; the next proper civilization was another two days' journey away. So as the sun began to fall and Húli grew so tired as to petulantly demand to be carried, they made camp next to the road, with a long view down both directions.

Húli proved surprisingly useful, locating sticks amongst the mostly flat plains to make a campfire, and this time Kuro had no energy to complain when she lit the fire using her magic. Instead he just rifled through their pack, setting things aside in his hunt for food, and Wolf picked their bedrolls from the pile to set them up for sleep. Huli investigated everything Kuro set aside, and the dragon stretched across the first bedroll Wolf spread out, for once detaching from Kuro.

"You've been visible for a while," Kuro remarked, and the dragon lifted its snout to acknowledge him. "I thought it was something you had to work to do?"

 _It was,_ the dragon agreed, and Húli raised her head to squint when its mental not-voice rang out into the night air. Shaking her head, she returned to her nosing about; when she had finished rooting through what Kuro had removed from the pack, she shifted into that childlike form they had seen before to dig through the pack herself.

"It's not anymore?"

 _No,_ the dragon replied simply.

"Very informative," Wolf remarked dryly, not intimidated in the slightest by the stern look the dragon shot his way. But Kuro was not as impatient or irate with the dragon's tired disinterest in conversation.

"Is it because we're getting closer to your home?"

 _In part._ Kuro cocked his head, and the dragon explained, _You are both growing, as well. As you spend time with me, you grow more attuned to my presence, and our bond is strengthened. I do not have to put forth effort to show myself to you._

"Huh," Kuro remarked, ever so eloquent. "Can others see you, too?"

 _They could,_ the dragon said, _if I wished for them to - or if they were particularly spiritually attuned._

"Like Aurelio?" Kuro asked, and though his voice was softer out of respect, Wolf found it did not hurt so much to hear the inventor's name mentioned. Still, he found himself flexing the fingers of his prosthetic before he could stop himself.

_Like the inventor, yes. That man -_

It was interrupted by a sharp noise between a yip and hiss, and they all turned to see Húli had scrambled away from the pack, his posture stiff. With so many eyes on him, he shook his head adamantly before demanding, "Where the hell did _that_ come from?!"

It was the little satchel Joro had given them, and Húli was pointing at it as though it had personally wronged him. "A gift from a friend," Kuro answered slowly, scooping it into his hands and delicately brushing the dirt from it. "What's wrong?"

"It _reeks_ of danger!" Húli exclaimed, and turned disbelieving eyes on the dragon. "Are your humans always this nonchalant about this stuff?"

"Well," Kuro mused, opening the satchel to inspect that its contents were undamaged, "our friend _is_ a four-meter tall spider demon. I should think she's pretty dangerous. This little thing isn't gonna hurt you, though."

He held out the pouch in offering, and Húli hesitantly accepted it, peeking inside.

"Sewing supplies?"

"Sewing supplies," Kuro confirmed.

"And a whistle," Húli said, pulling the little wooden carving from the pouch. He inspected it for a moment, turning it over in his hands, and suddenly raised it to his lips; Kuro yelped and quickly snatched it from the fox's hands before he could blow on it. "Hey - !"

"The inscription!" Kuro protested, and pointed at the engraved characters that Wolf could not read. "It's for emergencies!"

"Well, I didn't know!"

"You could have read it! Unless you _want_ the dangerous spider lady to come here?"

It was a curious dispute, Wolf thought; Kuro had always been so respectful with everyone they had met thus far, but curiously, since they had met Húli, Wolf was seeing an oddly argumentative side of him, both in Húli's defense and against it. The Divine Heir looked rather like a scolding older sibling to the childlike fox, whose ears flattened against his hair as he argued back, and the realization was so sudden Wolf found himself barely withholding his amusement.

"Do you plan on bickering all night, or will you eat?"

Wolf's intervention had them both pouting but reluctantly turning back to the fire, and food was handed out to eat. The dragon shot Wolf a tired, grateful look, and at a simple gesture joined the shinobi, wreathing comfortably around his shoulders. Not for the first time, Wolf was surprised at the weight Kuro carried daily without thought, and idly reached up to run his fingers over its scaly hide.

"Keep him for a while," Kuro sighed, leaning back and dropping his head into Wolf's lap, eyes closed and tone content. "He's heavy."

"With how much food you just inhaled," Húli snarked, "I can't imagine you're one to talk."

"Hey, my growing boy diet is _very_ recent," Kuro sniffed, and though Wolf rolled his eyes and the dragon huffed irately, he ruffled Kuro's hair fondly nonetheless. "And I have to account for working out, now, too."

"I don't see why you're trying so hard." Húli cocked his head, drawing his legs to his chest, and Wolf noted how skinny his limbs were in this form. "You already had a shinobi and a literal god watching over you, and now I'm here, and I _know_ I'd be better in a fight than you." Kuro and Wolf both frowned at that, but Húli pressed on. "You don't have to worry about anything."

"I wish that was true," Kuro replied dryly. "The dragon can't do much until we restore him to power, and Wolf . . . "

He opened his eyes and met Wolf's gaze; the shinobi did not have to guess which of his numerous failures Kuro could possibly be thinking about. "I am not infallible," he continued in Kuro's stead. "It is for the best that he learns to protect himself."

As much as Wolf wished he could keep Kuro safe forever, the subconscious hand that Kuro raised to his chest and thumbed over the stitches in his yukata was a reminder of how he could not keep such a responsibility any longer. Kuro had never been in this sort of danger before - while many had hunted him in Ashina, no one had sought to harm him. No one had dared. Here, where men did not worship his blood, the seekers of it were greedy and cruel.

If he grew too lost in his own thoughts, Wolf could still . . .

Kuro took his hand, and Wolf shook his head gently in what he hoped was reassurance. The boy had been so strong throughout it all, bouncing back not days after, so Wolf could handle the memory, too. He need not dwell on it when Kuro was here, alive and breathing and staring up at him with so much concern it hurt.

"What are you two?" Húli's question startled them into turning their attention his way, and he shrunk a little at the sudden eyes on him. "Just wondering. You . . . don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," Kuro managed, sounding surprised. His gaze shifted back upward, past Wolf to the stars overhead. "It's a good question - you're not the first person to ask. I guess I just . . . don't really know."

He still held Wolf's right arm between his own, and Wolf was hit with the realization of how they must have looked - perhaps not a compromising position, but their closeness - dare Wolf call it _domesticity -_ was undoubtedly strange to observe, with Kuro being much older than a standard clingy child and the fact that they were unrelated. It might have even been awkward for Húli, being the third wheel to their bond.

"I care a lot about Wolf," Kuro finally said. "I think of him . . . I don't know, I guess you could say he's an older brother, if that makes it easier for you. I've never had any siblings, though, so I can't really say if that's what he is to me. Wolf is . . . my whole world."

And oh, how _that_ had Wolf's cheeks aflame - a warm, gentle fire, so unlike the one that danced in his eyes when his anger overwhelmed him. Kuro had always been an earnest person, but being the target of such genuine feeling was not something Wolf felt particularly equipped to handle.

What was he even supposed to say to that? Was he meant to recite it back? Was he expected to come up with his own painfully genuine prose to explain how much he cared for Kuro in turn - how Kuro had brought light to his life that he never thought he would find in his work as a shinobi, how his loyalty for Kuro had long since transcended his sense of duty, how he would protect Kuro with his life and had a hundred times already because Kuro was worth dying a thousand deaths for -

Clearing his throat, Wolf managed an only slightly hesitant, "I feel the same." And then, in an almost shamefully small voice, "Kuro . . . has always been special. To me, personally. Not because of his heritage, or because I was sworn to him."

It was awkward and stunted and it said something about him, Wolf was sure, that he struggled so greatly to speak of his own feelings in any capacity. But Kuro's cheeks tinted pink and he laughed and elbowed Wolf in the side, and the shinobi could not help but allow himself an amused huff as well.

"That's the most emotionally vulnerable I think you've ever been," he teased, and Wolf rolled his eyes and none-too-gently flicked Kuro's forehead in retaliation.

"Do not get used to it."

Húli hummed, equal parts in thought and to remind them he was there, and averted his gaze to stare into the fire. They both glanced his way, and after a moment he murmured, "I've never had a family."

. . . oh. Húli had asked, of course, but now their confessions felt insensitive. But before either could straighten up or apologize, Húli shook his head and shifted back. Once again a fox, she stretched, walked a circle around Kuro's bedroll, and curled up tightly at one end, and after sharing a questioning glance Kuro and Wolf opted not to push.

They followed suit soon after; they would need rest for the long days of travel ahead. But Kuro reached out to hold Wolf's hand once more as they drifted off to sleep, and Wolf did more than simply allow it - he reciprocated the gesture.

* * *

An expanse of darkness.

_Something is not right._

Wolf stood in a halo of dim light; all around him, nothingness. When he moved, the light moved with him - as did the dark.

_Shinobi, wake up._

Voices whispered - something, a dozen somethings, a hundred, moved in the dark about him, and yet his heightened vision was failing him.

_Now, fool!_

They surged, all at once -

Wolf awoke with a start, and he knew in a heartbeat that something was _wrong._

In another heartbeat, he was jerking upright and lunging for where he had last seen Kuro asleep, fear rising as a lump in his throat - only to find he was not there, but a few paces away, alert and visibly on edge. The dragon and Húli both had hackles raised and teeth bared. The air around them was still and silent and stuffy, and Wolf realized the sun's rays had not yet even begun to paint the sky. Kusabimaru lay a few feet away next to their pack; Kuro was already reaching for his katana, hands shaking but eyes narrowed and determined as he tried to scan the darkness around them.

The hairs rose on the back of Wolf's neck, and he dodged out of the way just in time for an arrow to land where he had been kneeling half a second before; he only had enough time to throw himself forward and grab Kusabimaru's hilt before they were surrounded.

Kuro's back thudded against his own, pressed close, and Húli pressed against his ankle with a low growl in her throat. The band that stepped out of the shadows consisted of only five men, but the scars littering their skin and the armor they wore hinted at a competence Wolf did not look forward to facing. He could feel Kuro tremble against him as Wolf unsheathed Kusabimaru, and who he could only assume was the leader - judging by the fact he wore a helmet where the others did not - began to speak.

Wolf was not capable of understanding, of course, nor was he interested in trying; instead, he surveyed the tight circle of armed bandits, glancing them over for personal weaknesses and looking for the easiest escape route. He was not keen on fighting heavily armored and experienced men if he could help it, and as he eyed the only one with a bow he shifted his stance, ready to lunge.

_Left!_

He could only guess the warning came from the dragon; Wolf turned just in time to catch the thrust of a spear underfoot, stomping the pole to the ground. His assailant tried to jerk the weapon back, but Wolf was quicker - he brought his other foot down, and the bandit was forced to drop the spear lest the handle break under Wolf's weight, and before the archer could nock an arrow Wolf had fired a bullet through his forehead with a large _bang!_

There had been no time to test out the firearm prosthetic Aurelio had crafted him until now, and there was no time to marvel over its efficiency - that was all the time he had with the element of surprise.

Kuro shouted behind him, and the screech of metal against metal rang in Wolf's ears; the sound of a good block, but there was no time to be proud, nor was there time to help. The bandit with the spear was lunging with a dao, now, and Wolf barely managed to deflect it before it cut into his ribs. But there was a sudden surge of heat behind him, a tormented scream he did not recognize, and a feral gekkering Wolf could only assume was Húli, and he felt confident enough in their teamwork to focus on his own assailant.

There was remarkable strength behind the man's swings, and Wolf's shoulders jolted with every collision of metal. Of course, he would not only face one of them, either; another bandit lunged at him to the left, and all Wolf could do was reach out with his prosthetic and wrap his fingers around the blade. The impact rattled up his arm to the remaining bone, and though he had effectively halted the second strike, his remaining arm was not enough to hold Kusabimaru steady, and the first bandit's sword skidded down the blade's length and hacked into his shoulder.

Gritting his teeth against a sharp cry as his shoulder erupted with agony, Wolf ripped the dao he held from his second assailant's hands and plunged it into the first's ribs. The man's grip weakened almost instantly, a choking gurgle escaping him, and blood flew from his lips as he coughed and stumbled back; the dao being pulled free from Wolf's shoulder with a wet squelch hurt more than it did going in, but it freed Wolf to turn and face the second bandit -

\- only for a knife to plunge into his diaphragm.

Though the weak groan that spilled from Wolf's lips was undoubtedly pathetic, he hardly had the time to dwell on it - _just kill this man, get to the last one before he hurts the boy -_ but as he moved to swing Kusabimaru at the bandit that had stabbed him, the world spun, and his katana digging into the ground was the only thing that kept him upright when his knees gave out under him.

_Poison._

There was an unpleasant crunching noise and an eruption of pain as the mercenary placed a well-aim kick to his face, sending him sprawling backward into the dirt as his vision blurred. Gritting his teeth, Wolf turned on his stomach and willed his limbs to allow him back up, but a knee on his back sent him firmly back into the dirt, the knife digging deeper into his torso.

The bandit said something Wolf could not hope to decipher, disdain dripping from his tone, and then a sword was plunged into his right bicep.

Wolf could not help it - his throat burned with the effort of the guttural scream, torn brutally from his throat in equal parts pain and fury and terror and pathetic, internal begging of _not this, please, not again - !_

"Wolf!"

_"Kuro!"_

How much of the blurred vision was from the poison, and how much from tears? How many tears were from old fears, new fears, the pain from his arm, from his chest, from coughing up blood? All he could see were blurred shapes from where he lay - what he could only presume was Kuro swinging his katana at the leader, only for it to be knocked effortlessly away; a fist in Kuro's hair, a cry of pain, a furious growl; an orange blur, a sickening _crack,_ and a horrible whimper as Húli was violently kicked away.

_They're going to kill him._

They wouldn't. Not when there was money to be made -

_You killed their men._

Surely they had expected such -

 _Get_ up, _shinobi!_

He couldn't, not with the poison coursing through his system, not with the dao pinning him in the dirt, not with iron on his lips and the familiar blackness of death crawling over his vision -

_They're going to -_

A guttural shriek left Wolf's ears ringing and blood turning to ice in his veins.

He wished he could say the world stopped in that moment, that everything turned still, but the screaming _continued._ Kuro gasped and sobbed and _shrieked_ again and again, only stopping to suck in another lungful of air before another wretched cry tore through the still silence. There was a thud, and the blue mass that Wolf recognized as Kuro's yukata writhed before curling up, weeping muffled as his arms covered his face. The foot on Wolf's back let up.

The dragon's power was welcome to manifest any moment -

_Your dragon cannot help you, but I can._

The ice in his veins warmed, heated, _scalded_. The blade in Wolf's arm began to sizzle.

 _Save him,_ Wolf tried to say, but all that came out was a muffled, pathetic moan. The bandit that had impaled him twice began to approach Kuro's stilled form.

 _I will,_ the voice said, a sick note of glee in the promise.

Wolf's prosthetic fingers latched around the bandit's ankle without his command; with a burning fury and a flash of orange, the man was set alight, his screams cut short in seconds as his charred corpse collapsed to the equally burnt grass.

The dao in his arm continued to sizzle until he felt it melt away completely. The molten steel burned and stung his skin, but the sensation was so far away he hardly felt it - the only thing that mattered was that he could stand before he even thought to tell his limbs to move.

He felt weightless, hardly present, detached from his body as he took one step forward, then another. He wrenched Kusabimaru from the dirt with no effort as he approached the last bandit, and when he tried to speak, he had nothing to offer but a wild snarl that did not sound like himself. Unnatural heat so unlike the sun enveloped his body, and upon glancing down he found flames licking at his skin, dancing, but not consuming.

The bandit leader did not waver, but the apprehension scrawled all over his face brought satisfaction, the fire in Wolf's veins only burning hotter. Though sluggish, he took his stance, daring the man to strike first.

He did, inevitably - frightened men rush to their deaths. A parry, a thrust, and Kusabimaru was embedded in the leader's chest to the hilt . . . and his dao sunk into Wolf's stomach, just below the knife.

The leader wavered and collapsed, and Wolf did not do much better, falling to his knees once more and struggling for breath. That was it, then. The threats were dead, Wolf was going to die soon, and Kuro . . . was moving, still crying, saying something, but Wolf could hear nothing but the crackling of fire in his ears and his vision remained frustratingly fuzzy.

His fingers closed around the hilt of the knife; gritting his teeth, he wrenched it free and tossed it aside. The sword was a much more difficult beast, but when he wrapped his hand around the blade, it glowed and melted under his palm like the dao had before. It was difficult to pry the remainder from his back, but he managed it before his strength finally gave in and he fell face-first into the dirt.

If he was to come back - if the dragon's blessing was to save him still - he could not have them in the way of his healing. If it did not, well . . . he could not be saved either way.

"Wolf - _Wolf!_ Dragon, _do something!"_

_Húli, I need your help._

_"Tell me what to do."_

The heat was receding, replaced by an uncharacteristic cold that should not have been present when the night had already been so warm. Vaguely, he registered being moved onto his back; the only warmth that remained were Kuro's hands cradling his face, and something on his stomach. It might have burned if he were present enough to feel it.

"Wolf, please - I need you to stay - "

He wanted to, he _did,_ but no amount of begging would halt the darkening of his vision.

"I love you, so please - !"

Nothingness.

"You have to come back!"

The sharp, shrill scent of sakura. The taste of copper. Agony, his nerves screaming in his abdomen and arm and nose, the pain so overwhelming he nearly lost consciousness once more - but with resurrection came the strength to cope, even if shock made it impossible to cry out at his injuries.

Something warm dripped onto his face, and at first Wolf was certain it was tears until his eyes finally focused on Kuro's face. On the mass of red, the sticky rivulets down his cheek to his chin, the mangled socket -

"No," he managed, horrified, bile burning in his throat, and despite the protest of torn muscles he reached out to cup Kuro's face. Kuro took his hand in his own, easing some of the strain, pressing it against his unmarred side.

"Wolf," Kuro whispered, raw and cracking, and fresh tears spilled over his fingers. _"Wolf."_

Wolf's hand slid to the back of Kuro's neck, and he tugged, pulling him forward to lay against the shinobi's chest. Kuro wept into his shitagi, sobs deep and chilling and contagious, and if Wolf's tears mingled with the bloodied ones that had already dripped onto his face, he did not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeheehehhehe


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you?" Kuro asked.
> 
>  **"We have guarded this temple for many years,"** she answered simply, **"and we will for many more."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's time to rest :)

"Hey."

His lungs ached almost as much as his . . . the socket where his eye had been. He hardly felt that anymore. All that was left was the emptiness clawing at his insides and the desperation that kept him clinging to Wolf's hand.

"Come on. I've put together a way to carry him." Kuro wished he had not glanced up at Húli; the wince he gave upon seeing Kuro's face was contagious, and shame burned in his gut. But Húli did not falter, placing a hand on his shoulder and jostling him lightly. "We need to get him somewhere safe."

He knew the fox was right, but his limbs felt like lead. His head throbbed with just the minute motion of lifting it, and it took more strength than he wanted to raise his hand and wipe tears from his cheeks.

_Kuro._

The dragon stared at him from Wolf's chest, doleful expression stabbing at Kuro's heart, and he sniffled and relented and pushed himself to his feet. "I know."

Wolf's arm had long since gone limp, its dead weight falling from Kuro's shoulder as he straightened, his back protesting the shift from his hunched position. Glancing at Wolf as he stood was a mistake; the shinobi's expression was relaxed so thoroughly Kuro might have even called it _serene,_ and it was something he had never seen on Wolf's face, not even in the rare glimpses he caught of a smile quirking Wolf's lips or on the scarce occasion Kuro found him asleep. It was the worst part of the whole ordeal - were it not for his slow, labored breathing, Kuro would have thought him dead.

He was not fully convinced Wolf would not die any moment, and the thought spurred him into action.

Wolf was heavier than he looked, Kuro noted idly as he slipped his arms under the man's own and Húli lifted his legs; the shinobi was small for a man, but packed with muscle, and though they struggled to move him the weight was almost reassuring. The stretcher Húli had crafted from a bedroll and the tent stakes was shoddy, but did its job. It held Wolf's weight securely as they lifted it from the ground and started down the road.

And quickly Kuro realized they had to stop, because in his mourning he had yet to learn that one eye simply could not perform the job of two. Gingerly they swapped places, Húli leading, and continued on their way.

It should have bothered him more. Kuro _knew_ that, and the dull ache reverberating through his skull from the blood-caked exposed muscle and torn ligaments was terrible enough it left his whole body weak, but it was as though he was feeling someone else's pain - someone on a different plane of existence than him, someone that just happened to occupy the same space as him. Despite how weak it made his body, how hard it became to think, how badly he wished to cry, Kuro continued walking.

He could not even claim it was out of strength. He knew it was shock; how that realization had yet to break the spell over him, he was not sure, but the void that had replaced his heart and its feelings was far preferable to grief.

The continued walking was tense. Húli was not like Kuro; when his conversational partner fell silent, he did not pick up the slack. The pack weighed heavily on Kuro's shoulders, though with the dragon off of them it was nothing he could not deal with. Even the heat that rose with the sun did nothing to shake him from the blank haze he found himself falling into - though he caught Húli growing more and more sluggish with each hour that passed.

They moved understandably slowly, what with how they were carrying a fully-grown man between them, but they continued moving nonetheless. Kuro could only wonder about the passage of time to Húli; under a distant spell as he was, it was almost as though he blinked and it was sunset, with pinks and oranges reflecting off of low, gray clouds. With no thoughts in his mind, the day had seemed to pass in an instant - and the settlement they were approaching seemed as though it had sprouted straight out of the ground before them, even if Kuro was well aware that was not true.

It was curious, really - the map and villagers had both described it as a little place not even big enough to be called a village, and that was true of the meager few houses, but they had not mentioned the temple. The four or five pitiful little homes took up less space than the old structure tucked into the trees, and Húli glanced back at him with skepticism scrawled all over his features.

"They said it was abandoned," he said, "but they didn't think the giant creepy worship house was worth mentioning?"

Any other day, Kuro might have laughed. Instead he only replied, "Let's go."

It was going to start raining any moment, and indeed as they veered onto the path to the temple a few droplets began to hit Kuro's hands. He watched as one hit Wolf's cheek and considered leaning over him to protect him, but the position was too awkward to maintain while walking, so he gave up quickly.

There was a sensation of being watched as they approached, one that Kuro only noticed when it had grown so strong that Húli's tail puffed up wildly. It looked something like a feather duster, Kuro noted with odd clarity. Coming closer, he could see the temple was old, but strong; old pillars that had weathered many elements still held up the outer roof, and the stone steps leading to its entrance did not appear particularly precarious. On either side of the stairs, however, were seated a pair of great stone lions that Húli froze to stare at. One seemed to be holding a cub under its paw; the other held some sort of ball that seemed sculpted to look like cloth.

"Húli - ?"

**"Who goes there?"**

And then they sprang to life.

Were it any other time, Kuro might have startled as Húli did, might have yelped or dropped what he was holding or at least even flinched, but the shock that accompanied the lions leaping down from their perches was so delayed Kuro had no reason to act on it. For though the lions grew close, they only circled, varying levels of curiosity and interest on their faces.

"What are you?" Kuro asked, and he did not recall mirroring the Mandarin they spoke, but he must have for they responded in kind.

 **"We asked first,"** said the one with the ball, surprisingly petulant despite his low, booming voice, but the other merely cocked her head.

 **"We have guarded this temple for many years,"** she answered simply, **"and we will for many more."**

Húli was still stiff and unmoving, but he was not abandoning them, and that, at least, was a blessing Kuro could count. The lioness with the cub (which had climbed to her shoulders and was gnawing on one ear) paused to Kuro's left, peering down at Wolf - and directly at the dragon.

 **"Oh,"** the other said softly, far more meek this time. The dragon raised his head, fixing tired eyes on the lioness.

_May we take refuge in your temple?_

**"We would be honored to aid the King of the Western Sea,"** the lioness rumbled. Her eyes shifted to Wolf's injuries, then to Kuro's tired, bloodied face, and he had not known a lion's eyes could grow so gentle. **"Oh, child . . . come in. Rest."**

The lions parted so they could move. Kuro worried Húli would remain frozen, but he did approach the steps - and hesitate.

"What's wrong?" Kuro asked, but Húli only shook his head and peered over his shoulder at the lions. The male one huffed and tossed his head, shaking his mane out.

**"Are you going in, or would you rather stay out here in the rain?"**

It seemed to be the invitation Húli needed, for he swallowed and started up the stairs. It was difficult to maneuver Wolf up them, steep as they were, but they managed, the lions on their heels. The lion remained out on the veranda while the lioness led them inside the wide doorway, stone creaking and groaning as she moved.

Polished floors had collected a thick layer of dust, and they left behind footprints wherever they walked. Much of the decoration was covered in cobwebs. The interior was surprisingly nice despite it, and Kuro wondered at the contradicting factors and how long it had truly been since this temple was abandoned. Alarmingly, however, there were skeletons inside; four of them, to be precise, huddled in a corner.

"I don't suppose you plan on eating us?" Kuro found himself asking dryly, and the dragon's head snapped up to glare - it was a rather rude accusation for beings that had given him no reason to question them. But the lioness only stared sadly at the skeletons before leading Kuro and Húli to an old fire pit in the floor.

 **"They took refuge here, like you,"** she said, **"but the things that chased them never left."**

It was a sentence that spoke of a longer story, but Kuro could not muster any curiosity. Instead he and Húli gently set Wolf on the floor, and once the fox had the fire lit, Kuro seated himself next to Wolf's unmoving body to wait. Húli plopped down next to him a moment later, posture stiff and eyes determinedly focused on the fire.

 _Thank you for extending your hospitality,_ the dragon sighed when nobody spoke, and something that was almost guilt prodded at Kuro's conscience. Guilt that he was being impolite, that he was forcing the dragon to speak when it was working so hard on helping Wolf, but he was done talking. He could not open his mouth to say more if he wanted to.

 **"My mate patrols the outside, strengthening the ward as we speak,"** the lioness said in lieu of welcome, and the dragon closed its eyes and rested its head back on Wolf's chest. **"Nothing will reach you here."**

To Kuro's surprise, it was Húli that made a noise of confirmation this time when no one else stepped in, and the lioness turned to leave. She paused, however, glancing over her shoulder.

**"There is a well behind the temple to clean your wounds. Please help yourself."**

Her heavy pawsteps and the groaning of floorboards followed her exit until she was out of Kuro's earshot, and the temple was silent save for the crackling fire and the gentle patter of raindrops beginning to sound against the roof. A droplet or two seeped through the ceiling and dripped onto the floor, but it was nowhere near them, so Kuro paid it little mind. The dragon's eyes were closed and its body still, its magic focused wholly on Wolf; all there was left to do was wait.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Húli sighed and stood, and Kuro raised his head to follow the movement. "I'm going to look in those houses for something to patch you up," the fox said, and when Kuro offered a soft hum of acknowledgement he left, bare feet light on the wooden floors.

It was surreal, really, how serene the temple was. Kuro might have worried it was a trick had the dragon not seemed so confident of their safety. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the creaking and shifting of stone past the downpour that was steadily picking up. The only other thing to focus on was Wolf, breathing shallow and laboured despite his otherwise unbothered countenance, and though he knew the dragon was doing its best Kuro still felt tears pricking at his remaining eye when his gaze passed over the wound on his arm.

Wolf had _never_ sounded like that before.

That first time, when Wolf had lost his left arm, Kuro had not been conscious to see it. From what he had heard through Genichiro's gloating, Wolf had hardly been conscious to feel it. Wolf had sustained far worse injuries, as well; though he had cried out before through the deep cuts and visceral stabbings, they had been instinctive noises elicited assumedly against his will, and had never stopped him from fighting back. But the way he had writhed and screamed as though it had woken him from the poison's delirium, a far more terrible sound than one of pain -

_Are you ever afraid?_

Fear, Kuro could guess, but of what?

_Always._

Wolf had thought he was going to lose his other arm.

"Dragon," he blurted, stomach lurching and eye burning, "will he - ?"

 _He will not,_ the dragon promised tiredly, the gentle rise and fall of its body the only indication it was the one speaking, and though Kuro's shoulders drooped in relief his lips still quivered and tears still fell. Careful not to jostle the shinobi's arm, Kuro slipped his hand between Wolf's loose fingers and squeezed tight. For a heartbeat, he did not even care if he woke the shinobi, because then at least he would know all was well; it took a moment to compose himself and let go, reminding himself that Wolf desperately needed the rest.

Just as he was wiping tears from his cheek, he caught the sound of little footsteps hurrying up the stairs, followed by a low grumble from one of the lions. Glancing back, he found Húli rinsing his feet of mud using the falling rain before making his way inside with a bundle of damp linens and a bucket of water.

"I found a few blankets," he said, dropping them on the floor by the fire and setting the bucket close to the edge of the pit to warm the water. "This place . . . it's like everyone just left suddenly one day. Everything's untouched."

"I wonder what happened," Kuro mused, more in support of Húli than out of his own curiosity. It was clear Húli could tell, because after a short pause he simply hummed and began to tear a piece from one of the linens, using his claws to help.

"The water hasn't heated yet," Húli said, "but that's more for his sake. Come here."

"I don't - " Kuro began to protest, but Húli silenced him with a glare, so he reluctantly turned to face the fox and sat still as the cold, wet cloth touched his skin.

Húli started at his chin, gently scrubbing away the dried blood and staining the cloth red, then worked his way up Kuro's cheek. The dull ache spiked as Húli grew closer to the socket and the skin pulled and stretched, but at Kuro's small wince he backed off and worked around the area once more until there was no choice but to clean around the socket.

"Do you wanna do this part?"

Kuro shook his head - he did not think he _could._ Gingerly as he could, Húli attempted to hold the skin he cleaned in place as well as he could, though the area still throbbed enough to squeeze a few tears from his remaining eye. It was nothing compared to the initial pain, though - the thumb digging in, his eye popping out with pressure and a wet squelch, the fingers pulling and tearing until the cord holding it stretched and snapped and spurted blood -

"There," Húli piped up softly, interrupting the memory. He pulled away with a frown, and Kuro hadn't even the energy to be offended - he knew it had to be quite the terrible sight. "That's . . . odd."

"What?" That was not what Kuro expected to hear.

"There's no swelling or bruising," Húli remarked, eyebrows drawing together, "and it looks like it stopped bleeding hours ago. There should still be some trickle."

"Oh," Kuro replied lamely. "That's probably because of the dragon."

Like the last time he was harmed - the injury had undoubtedly occurred, but he had healed nearly instantaneously. With nothing to repair, the eye could not come back, but even with the dragon focusing most of its restorative powers on Wolf, it had still managed to halt any further damage to Kuro with seemingly little effort.

Kuro had never considered how much of a divide there was between heir and retainer until now, where it was displayed clearly before his very eye. After all the effort he had put forth to erase that line between them, to see it still existed was deeply frustrating.

Húli wrapped a strip of cloth around his head, and they turned their attention to Wolf. The water had warmed from its proximity to the fire, so Kuro pulled it away from the heat. Húli began tearing a sheet into pieces and setting them on the bucket's edge as Kuro set to undressing Wolf; the dragon shifted to settle on Wolf's thighs, eyes drooping tiredly, and though it took effort to maneuver the dead weight that was Wolf's upper body he managed to strip him of both haori and shitagi.

He spared only a moment's hesitation longer before setting to work unbuckling the harness and loosening the clamps on the prosthetic as well, delicately setting it aside - with all that had been happening, he knew Wolf had not spared any time taking care of the residual limb, but late was better than never. He could practically hear Aurelio's scolding about how Wolf needed to take better care of himself in general, and it brought a brief smile to his face. If only the inventor could see them now, they would surely get an earful.

It was Wolf's bicep he set to cleaning first - it was what the shinobi would have wanted. As Húli took Wolf's clothes out to clean the blood from them, Kuro gently wiped away as much blood and filth as he could; idly, he noted they both needed to bathe soon, but that was something they could deal with later. Wolf's wounds, unlike Kuro's, still oozed blood, so as he wrapped Wolf's bicep he made a mental note to swap the dressing regularly. The gash on his opposite shoulder was the next stop, but it was surprisingly shallow and needed little attention.

Next was the stab wound just below Wolf's sternum, and as he swapped wet cloths and began to wipe the dried blood away he glanced at the dragon. "What about the poison?"

 _He will simply have to flush it from his system manually._ The statement drew Kuro's attention to the sweat at Wolf's temples and heat of his skin - he had not even thought about it. _It has been too long to attempt to cleanse the wound._

Regret stabbed at Kuro's lungs, stealing air from his chest - if he had only come to his senses rather than wallowing in grief, perhaps he could have done something sooner. He had no wish to see Wolf suffering longer than necessary, especially not when he could have prevented it.

Húli was back by the time Wolf's front was clean of blood, and after placing Wolf's clothes near the fire to dry, the fox helped hold Wolf in a sitting position so Kuro could clean the exit wound. And then came the part he had been least looking forward to; reaching for their pack, he procured Joro's sewing supplies, and with as steady a hand as he could muster he began to stitch the many stab wounds shut.

It took overwhelming effort not to allow bile to rise in his throat every time the thread tugged through Wolf's skin.

Relieved to be finished, with Húli's help once more, he wrapped the makeshift bandages around Wolf's torso. A few wraps around, a few loops over each shoulder, and Kuro tucked the end into itself and checked to make sure nothing was too tight. He rummaged through the pack once more, pulling out the tanuki fur Wolf had bought him so many weeks before, and set it out as a makeshift pillow for Húli to gently lower Wolf onto.

It had been so long since then. So much had changed. Kuro was not a wide-eyed, sheltered child anymore.

With nothing else to do, Húli and Kuro settled before the fire once more. Kuro's attention was quickly drawn, however, by the way Húli sat; his back was stiff as a board and his hands politely in his lap, gaze fixed firmly on the fire, and it was more proper than anything Kuro had seen from the fox in the past few days. It was the way he had been conducting himself since they arrived, and Kuro had not even thought to comment on it, but if they were to be staying there for a while . . .

"You don't like it here."

Húli's ears swiveled toward him before his head did. "There's nothing _wrong_ with it."

"But?"

That bushy tail flicked twice against the hardwood, irritation in the motion, but his voice was decidedly calm when he said, "We don't enter temples that aren't ours. I shouldn't be here, especially with _shishi_ at the entrance."

"You don't think they'd hurt you, do you?" Kuro asked, surprised by the notion - they had seemed welcoming enough, if a bit stiff, and had hardly acknowledged Húli at all.

"After inviting me in? Not likely." Húli's eyes lowered from the fire to stare at his hands in his lap. "But I need to be careful how I act. And this is a _very_ nice temple." A pause, a sigh, and then an almost imperceptible, "I wish mine was still . . . "

He trailed off, shoulders drooping so minutely Kuro almost did not notice it. But he did, and after a moment's hesitance he prompted, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Húli slumped further, until only one of his legs was beneath him; the other was bent to his side. "It's a long story."

Glancing at Wolf's unmoving form, Kuro pointed out, "We have some time."

He did not truly expect the fox to speak about it; perhaps one day, he supposed, if Kuro created a welcoming enough environment to do so. But after only a few moments of pause, Húli sighed and drew his knees up to his chest.

"Foxes used to be worshipped here. I mean, it's the same in your homeland, right?"

"Not in Ashina," Kuro replied, "but I think some other places in Japan might."

Húli hummed low in acknowledgement. "Well. I'm sure you could tell I was one of those foxes. Worship got outlawed a while back, though. Didn't stop every human, but it's been slowly closing in. For me, it happened a few decades ago.

"They used to say you couldn't build a village without a fox spirit. My humans were generous - I never wanted anything. I loved them, but I guess they didn't love me back all that much, because when rumors started circulating that I couldn't be trusted and shouldn't be worshipped they dropped me in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, I was alone.

"I didn't blame them, at first," Húli went on, though the bitterness that seeped into his tone brought his statement into question. "Anyone can be brainwashed away from the truth. They never tried to chase me off, at least - I guess they were still superstitious enough to want me around. I was lonely, but I couldn't just leave. I had nowhere to go. And the longer that went on, the more children that grew up never even knowing I existed . . .

"Well, I guess that was their mistake. There was a boy - curious little thing. The kids were never taught I existed, so they weren't taught to fear me, either, so this kid goes wandering off one day and stumbles into my shrine."

"Must have been a shock, after so long," Kuro commented, and the brief smile that crossed Húli's lips was a nice respite, but a short one.

"He scared the hell out of me," the fox admitted. "But he was nice, and gentle, and though I'm a bit old to be playing with children, I was just happy to have someone around. So . . . we played. We spent a lot of time together. For a long time, I wondered what parent was just _letting_ him come to my shrine almost daily - there was no way nobody would notice him missing for so many hours a day.

"And then . . . I realized he was alone. He had no one."

The bitterness seeped into anger, and it was contagious - Kuro could not even begin to imagine what kind of person would simply allow a needy child to suffer.

"The village wasn't stepping in to care for him, so I did what I could. He started staying at the shrine full-time, and I started stealing food so he could eat. Funny how _that_ was what got their attention. An orphan in need, a child going missing, neither their problem, but some missing surplus and suddenly they're at my temple with torches and pitchforks."

"They didn't," Kuro blurted, horrified. He was not even sure what he was protesting against - the burning of the shrine? Harm to the child? Harm to Húli? But the fox shook his head, burying a hand in his hair.

"They didn't have to do anything. I - I was furious. It was one thing to turn their backs to me, but another to turn their blades on me." His voice grew quieter. "I lost control. My fire never burned so hot. And he . . . he was inside."

"Oh," Kuro found himself murmuring, "Húli - "

"By the time the villagers had run and I realized what I'd done, he was gone."

With the way Húli's ears drooped and his tail draped limply on the floor, Kuro almost regretted asking. Were it someone else, he would have reached out - patted his shoulder, rubbed his back, even offered a hug - but he did not know the fox, and got the impression he was not the touchy type. Instead they sat in quiet for a long while, Kuro waiting patiently and praying he had not overstepped, until Húli moved again to stare at the fire.

"Is that skull . . . ?" Kuro asked hesitantly, and Húli finally, _finally_ turned to look at him.

"When foxes pray to the moon wearing a skull that fits them," he said quietly, "they gain the power to turn into a human. Before, I wasn't interested; after the humans abandoned me, I couldn't find one that fit. But his . . . "

It was the one that had fit - what a sad coincidence that was. Had the child lived, Húli would not have gained that power.

"Is this - him? Is this what he looked like?"

Húli nodded, averting his gaze once more. The untamed hair, the thin limbs, the baby cheeks - everything but the vivid orange hue of his hair, Kuro presumed, and the green of his eyes. He could change the appearance if he wanted to, Kuro knew, but instead he kept this memento of the child he'd once cared for - this child so close in age to Kuro, this child Kuro undoubtedly reminded the villagers of.

Kuro's heart ached at the thought.

"Well," he spoke up after a moment, "you're here now. They won't trouble you anymore. And in this temple, at least, you're safe."

"Yeah," Húli agreed quietly.

And then there was a roar from outside the temple doors, so loud it rattled the structure to its core.

Húli gave a noise somewhere between a startled yelp and threatened growl, and Kuro nearly jumped out of his skin. Even the dragon jerked upright, eyes wide and nostrils flared as he peered through the doorway to the dark outside, where all they could see were the stone lions' backs facing them.

**"You will not enter."**

Húli and Kuro shared wary glances; Kuro was the first to rise and approach the door, but Húli was hot on his heels.

"You would deny your kings?"

Kuro froze so abruptly in the doorway that Húli ran face-first into his back, but at the sight that greeted him the fox did not find the words to complain.

Two great dragons, with long, twisting bodies like their brothers, coiled around each other and squished together on the narrow path. One was red like fire, scales glimmering even with the overcast night, with a mane and beard that complemented his scales with a golden hue; the other was blacker than the night they stood in, his white mane and the snowflakes dotting it a stark contrast to his body. The black one appeared to be supporting the red, whose eyes drooped tiredly as they zeroed on Kuro.

"You," it growled. "The heir."

Wolf was not there to ward them off like he had with the Eastern King - but when the black dragon reached out with an enormous clawed hand, it met resistance, stopping short against some sort of invisible barrier as the lions set up roaring once more. Even the cub joined in, little growls ineffective but furious nonetheless.

They could not pass, Kuro realized - the lions had promised protection, after all. Even from the dragon kings.

 _Kuro,_ came his dragon's voice, making Kuro turn to meet its gaze, _lend me your voice._

It could not move from Wolf's form, but if anyone could defuse the situation it would be the youngest brother. Hesitantly, Kuro nodded his permission and prayed the Western King would not do anything to goad the dragons on their doorstep.

 _"They are obeying me,"_ came the strange voice from his own lips, and the dragons outside stilled. _"What do you want?"_

. . . ah. There went that hope.

"Brother," the red one sighed tiredly, and heat washed over Kuro like a summer breeze.

"You would not come see us yourself?" the black one scolded, ice in its tone.

_"No."_

Well, it was concise.

"We missed you," the summer dragon admitted.

 _"Do you think me a_ fool?" Kuro had not known the dragon could sound this bitter. _"You miss what I did for you."_

Its exhaustion, Kuro realized, must have been from the summer; how long had it been forced to suspend it in absence of autumn? Without the ability to pass the torch along, it had to be sapping everything it had. Despite his own dragon's anger, sympathy flooded Kuro's heart - perhaps they had brought this upon themselves, but it was unfair for only one of them to bear the burden.

"We missed _you,"_ the winter one snapped. "Do not villainize us. We care about you."

_"You should have thought about that when you cast me out."_

The Southern King closed its eyes against the accusation, a soft exhale all but confirming its guilt, while the Northern King puffed up with indignance. It was baiting, and undoubtedly dangerous, but the way Kuro's chest tightened and gaze lowered was not something he commanded his body to do. He could not scold the dragon for speaking from a place of hurt - it would be unwise to scold it at all, but Kuro knew the dragon would never fight it.

 _"Do not concern yourself with this,"_ he found himself continuing. _"I am returning, and you will get your vacation. Leave."_

"It will not be that simple, little brother," the winter dragon commented. "In your absence, a filthy thing has moved in - "

_"I will deal with it."_

"Our eldest brother misses you, too," the summer dragon piped up softly, and _that_ caught Kuro's attention - there was a fifth?

_"He can tell me himself!"_

Kuro instinctively covered his mouth, shocked by the venom in his tone. Both of the dragons outside, however, winced harshly, looking thoroughly ashamed of themselves. The red was the first to move, but the black moved with it, supporting it as they backed off. The stone lions began to relax, hackles lowering at the lessened proximity, and Kuro watched with baffled relief as the dragons backed down. Under the veil of the rain, they began to fade quickly as they made their way down the path.

The red one glanced back, just barely visible enough to Kuro's eye. "We really did miss you, brother."

And then they vanished into the storm, just as lightning flashed brightly and thunder crashed overhead.

It was long after the dragons had disappeared from sight that the lions fully relaxed, and perhaps a minute more that Kuro found the sense to move his legs.

He had not even noticed Húli making his escape, but as he entered and scanned the temple, he found her as the tiny vixen once more, curled up at Wolf's feet. Her wide eyes peered at him through the skull's sockets, but otherwise she did not move; if she had been scared of the lions, he could only imagine how terrifying it would be to face gods.

"Dragon," Kuro called softly as he approached, but the dragon did not move. Húli gave a little huff.

_"I get a nickname, but you still just call him 'dragon?' There's not multiple of me."_

It was quiet enough that Kuro presumed he was not meant to hear it, but he shot her a disapproving look anyway before reaching out to stroke the dragon's spine.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

 _No._ Curt, simple - and then, _It was my eldest brother's idea to get rid of me._

Kuro decided there were some choice words he had to share with this brother if they ever met.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green eyes watched once-nimble feet grow clumsy and uncoordinated.
> 
> "Again - "
> 
> The same eyes squeezed shut in cringing sympathy when a failed deflect almost sent Kuro tumbling to the ground.
> 
> "Enough!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me sleeping in and posting this an hour late sjzjhsha
> 
> a lot of different stuff happens this chapter. i wanted to pad it out more, but there's only so much introspection and travel i can write before i lose my mind lmao

_"Qiūjì."_

_Qiūjì?_

_"Yep. It's that or the ever-ambiguous 'dragon,' old-timer."_

It was the conversation they had been having when Wolf suddenly bolted upright, chest heaving, a feral snarl tearing from his lips, eyes wide and crazed - and fire burst forth from his body, covering his skin and forcing Kuro to scramble backward. Húli startled as well, though the flames licking at her fur did not seem to alarm her nearly as much as the blazing gold that had overtaken Wolf's irises.

It was the dragon that rose to the challenge, claws digging into Wolf's bare skin for purchase as it wrapped its long body around his shoulders and neck, squeezing but not choking; after a moment of uselessly scrabbling at its barely-corporeal form, Wolf's eyelids began to droop once more, and the flames flickered and dissipated as he slumped uselessly back to the floor. Kuro was not quick enough to catch him in his descent, and both he and Húli winced as his head collided noisily with the wooden floor, the impact ultimately harmless but still cringeworthy.

It had all happened so quickly that Kuro's heart hadn't the sense to start racing until it was already over. Hand over his chest, he watched the dragon - watched _Qiūjì_ settle back onto Wolf's chest with a low, apologetic croon in its throat. Wolf's hand rose to rest on the dragon's head, stroking idly, reassuringly, and with a start Kuro realized Wolf was, in fact, still awake.

"Wolf," he greeted, calmer than he had been the last time this happened; they had managed to wake Wolf to eat once before, though he had hardly been present after Shura's outburst. This time, however, the shinobi blinked blearily up at him before his eyes widened and he grasped clumsily for Kuro's hand. "Good morning."

"You're okay," was not the outburst Kuro had expected, but perhaps that was silly of him; Kuro's wellbeing had always been more important to the shinobi than anything else. "Good."

"So are you," Kuro murmured back, trying not to focus on how terribly vulnerable Wolf sounded. "Will you eat?"

He could see the hesitance, the _no_ on the tip of Wolf's tongue, but all it took was Kuro squeezing his clammy hand in anxious anticipation of the denial for Wolf's expression to shift. Defeatedly, he said instead, "I'm . . . not sure I can sit."

"That's okay," Kuro said, already slipping his hand from Wolf's to reach for the sheets that were now neatly stacked. "I'll get you propped up. Your bandages need changed, anyway."

Things were painfully quiet as he set to work creating something of a linen throne for Wolf to lean back on, but it was more lighthearted to Kuro than Wolf; unbeknownst to the shinobi, they had not been certain he would properly wake anytime soon. Setting aside the raging fever that had yet to break, willingly letting Shura take over had been a dangerous decision, one that Qiūjì explained led to the demon attempting to reclaim his body anytime it was vulnerable - which at the moment was _always._

Though Wolf did not seem to be struggling with it at the moment (leading Kuro to wonder if he was even aware of the scope of what he had done), that was undoubtedly Qiūjì's doing. And though the dragon was strong enough to hold it off for now, with even a weakened god's strength still enough to exert his will over Shura's, Kuro knew without being told that it would not last forever - not when Qiūjì's restorative power, unlike his presence, ebbed with every passing day.

Húli did not interfere. She only interacted enough to shift into a human, prepare Wolf a bowl of the bland soup they had managed to prepare with their meager knowledge, and revert back to a fox. At a nod from Kuro, she obediently trotted out the door; she had grown more comfortable with the guardian lions since that first night, and was undoubtedly heading off to pester the cub to ensure Wolf and Kuro were left properly alone.

It was as Kuro was wetting a rag in preparation of cleaning any excess blood that Wolf spoke up. "How long have we been here?"

"Three days?" Kuro had to think hard about it. The passage of time had been so muddled since the battle. "Three days," he said with a little more certainty. "We went through most of our rations, so Húli and I got the idea to make a soup so it'd last longer. It's not very good, but it's filling."

Why did he say that? Wolf had not asked. But he was growing tired of the silence, and he wished that familiar expression on Wolf's face that indicated internal self-flagellation would go away and be replaced with something nice. Something normal. Something that was not a reminder of their losses.

"Your eye," was the next thing Wolf practically whispered, and Kuro could _feel_ the guilt dripping from the words, so deep and visceral his own heart seized as though the feeling was his.

"Gone," Kuro confirmed, and when his voice trembled he took a deep breath to calm it. "It's okay. We knew this would happen."

"It's not - !"

"If you're not going to eat yet," Kuro interrupted, agitation leeching into his words, "let me redress your wounds."

The protest died in Wolf's throat, and at Kuro's imploring look he averted his gaze and set the bowl aside. "All right," he conceded quietly, and raised his arm so Kuro could get to work.

It was cathartic, doing this while Wolf was awake; feeling the muscles shift under his hands with even the smallest movements simply because Wolf was moving on his own, the press of fevered skin as he finally moved enough to get his blood pumping, the sense that he was being watched because he _was -_ things that would normally be awkward, but were now countless reminders that Wolf was alive and . . . not _well,_ but getting there.

"How is your hand?" Kuro asked, noting how the shinobi kept flexing the fingers and frowning at them.

"Numb," Wolf answered truthfully. "Not so much that I cannot move it, but . . . "

"It isn't pleasant?" Kuro filled in dryly where he trailed off, and Wolf nodded.

As the dragon had informed him, most of the internal injuries were healed over, leaving only serious but not life-threatening ones to deal with. Wolf would likely be ready to move again by the next day. But there were still not-so-little things like these; even at full power, Qiūjì left behind old scars, and Kuro wondered if they ever hurt like his missing limb did. In the cold, perhaps, in Ashina - here, at least, he hoped they did not bother him too greatly.

Even now, Wolf was not fond of admitting when he was struggling. Kuro doubted he ever would be. It was enough growth that he would even hint at it in the first place.

"Kuro, I - "

"Can you - ?"

They both paused. Kuro recognized Wolf's tone, and dread at the coming conversation curdled in his gut. He had only a simple request for Wolf to shift and make his job easier - Wolf was attempting to address the elephant in the room, and Kuro did not _want to._ He'd had the past several days to cope, and though he could not tell if he had moved on from the incident or simply had not processed his grief yet, he knew he had no interest in facing it now.

But Wolf had not had that luxury. He had died, and spent the past several days trying not to do so again.

With a sigh that oozed guilt, Kuro began unwrapping the bandages over Wolf's shoulder. "Sorry. I know you want to talk about this, I just - "

"We do not have to," Wolf cut him off briskly, shifting to offer Kuro better access to the wound. He did not wince as Kuro inspected its healing progress - there was some bleeding from removing the bandages, but the gash itself was closing up nicely - and wiped away some of the blood. "If it makes you uncomfortable, we will not."

"I haven't been thinking about it at all," Kuro admitted, unwrapping the bandages around Wolf's torso next. "I think - I think that's the only thing keeping me calm right now. But I know you have something to say, so . . . "

"Just that I am sorry."

Of course. Kuro could expect no less. "For what?" he challenged. "You saved me. Us. I don't know what they would have done if you hadn't . . . well."

 _"Shura_ saved you," Wolf replied grimly. "And now that I have offered an inch, it will continue until it has taken a mile. I was a fool to accept its offer - "

"The offer that saved us, you mean?" Kuro interrupted sharply. Perhaps he was a bit rough pulling away the next piece of bandage, judging by Wolf's flinch - or perhaps it was just his tone that made the shinobi cringe. "You wouldn't have even had to if I'd managed to do any good with the training you gave me. I - I didn't even scratch any of them."

Oh . . . there were his tears. Mysteriously absent up to this point, they had finally arrived, and the emotion with them was even more delayed; he did not even process its existence until his next attempt at breathing in came as a watery sniff. The stab wounds on Wolf's chest and stomach were growing hard to make out through the blur of saltwater, and his words difficult to find through the tightness of anger and guilt that squeezed his lungs.

"You were exceptionally brave," Wolf quietly said, brushing a few strands of hair from Kuro's eye to coax him to look up. The gaze Kuro met was unbelievably tender. "Do you know how proud I am of you?"

And there were tears in his glimmering eyes, and his voice cracked the smallest bit on his words, and Kuro could only shake his head mutely and squeeze his eye shut; were he to see Wolf cry, he knew he would not be able to withhold the flood any longer.

"Well," Wolf continued, with a little huff that hinted something like amusement, "I am. Unbelievably so." More subdued, he murmured, "I only wish it had not cost you so much."

"I don't care," Kuro replied. The truth in the statement came as a surprise to him; he thought he had merely been avoiding thinking about his eye, like everything else, but . . . "I don't. It doesn't hurt anymore. I know I just lost an eye, but I thought - I thought I was going to lose _you!"_

As it turned out, he did not need to see Wolf cry to weep on his own; all he could bring himself to do was rest his head on Wolf's uninjured shoulder as he wept, and without any pause, Wolf's fingers carded soothingly through his hair. His skin was hot against Kuro's face, and he could not help but worry that the fever had yet to break, despite how much better Wolf was doing.

Truthfully, he _still_ worried he would lose Wolf; he was sure he would continue to worry until the shinobi's injuries had fully healed, and even still beyond. No matter what Wolf said, Kuro had still only stood by and protected himself, watching - and expecting - Wolf to handle things alone. When he had failed to, Kuro could do nothing to help - nothing but watch Wolf give in to a demon's will and _die._

"It will take more than that to get rid of me."

Wolf's voice was a soothing baritone so close, and his fingers gently combing Kuro's hair were so calming Kuro could fall asleep right there. Who had been the last person to do something like this? Had it been Wolf? Perhaps his mother? That would have been so long ago - so long Kuro could not remember anything save that he had been a child then.

"Good," Kuro whispered back.

He felt like a child now. Had anything even changed since his declaration that he was growing? Anything besides loss and the realization that he could do nothing but watch Wolf take care of everything for him? Wolf, who still held him close as though he was the same child, whose head drooped onto his shoulder with a shaky sigh and whose arm would not yet let him go?

Well . . . it was fine, Kuro decided, for now. He could pretend he was a child again for a while, caretaker holding and comforting him - could pretend he still had both his eyes, that he had not witnessed so much death, that there was not still a lengthy journey ahead of them, that he could not feel Wolf's tears seeping through the shoulder of his yukata.

Just for a little while, until he was ready to be grown again.

* * *

Another day passed before Wolf was able to support himself, and another before his fever broke and he could stand and move for a short time. On the third day, Shura did not stir upon his waking, and they knew he was ready to continue their journey once more.

The stone lions were not news to Wolf upon their departure, but he still marveled at them as they made their leave; the lioness allowed Kuro to pet her large nose in thanks before they went, and she rumbled deep in her chest in what might have been a purr before wishing them good luck on their journey. Even Húli offered a respectful little dip of her head, mimicking Wolf and Kuro's bows.

She had remained a fox for a few days, now, spending most of her time curled up at Wolf's feet or even his side as he continued to heal, particularly whenever Kuro left to stretch his legs. Now she tucked herself into the crook of Wolf's prosthetic, and the dragon wreathed around his shoulders, still working at his injuries; though he was well enough to travel, he was not sure he could do much else. As such, the pack was left to Kuro to carry once more.

And as soon as they exited the invisible barrier erected around the temple, Wolf felt it - the deep burning of Shura clawing at the back of his mind, looking for a way in. A way to take over. It was just a shadow of what he had experienced during those fitful wakings, a mere echo of how it had felt when Shura was in control, but he still stopped in his tracks and felt Qiūjì dig his claws into Wolf's uninjured shoulder in warning.

Kuro spared a worried glance, but after a moment of firm defiance and no results, Shura seemed to dissolve back into silent sulking. _Good._ It would not have him yet.

He still had work to do, and a young man - two young ones, now - to keep safe.

Kuro walked beside him, though did not take his hand, for the fingers still tingled frequently with uncomfortable numbness; he did, however, occasionally reach out to grasp the hem of his haori as though steadying himself.

Of course, no matter how much he claimed not to care about his missing eye, it still impacted his navigation. Wolf gave himself an extra internal kick for allowing its loss. They had not even questioned Aurelio's warning, both assuming it would happen to Wolf, but . . .

"It's like staring at a painting," Kuro said, as though Wolf had been speaking his thoughts aloud.

"Oh?" was all Wolf could manage in return. He could not tell if Kuro thought him curious, or if he just needed to speak about it - perhaps Kuro did not know, himself.

"I can tell things are supposed to be closer or further away, but it's because I already know how perspective works." He reached out in front of him, palm outward as though pressed against a wall. "But it's all flat. My hand is on the same level as those mountains."

Said mountains were so far on the horizon they were faded, hidden by fog and cloud alike, naught but a faint purple silhouette in the distance. "It does not seem to bother you much," Wolf commented.

"Not to walk, no," Kuro replied, a dryness to his tone. "There's nothing in front of me to run into. I . . . don't think I can fight anymore."

 _You don't need to,_ Wolf barely stopped himself from saying. Not only was that the very attitude that had led to conflict between them, but it was untrue. Kuro's training may not have ultimately saved him, but it had postponed much worse than simply a missing eye; with time and much more experience, he could have become quite formidable.

He could have had something that made him feel _competent._

"I'm sorry," Wolf said instead. "Perhaps you can still help. We have not tested this change yet."

"You don't really think I can do it, do you?" Kuro sounded so defeated. Reasonably so, for someone who had fought so hard to start learning swordplay only to do nothing with it. "There's no way. I can't fight like this!"

"Do you want to know the truth?" A pause, and then Kuro nodded. Honestly, Wolf answered, "I don't know. I have known a few warriors with the same handicap, but they were all much older than you, and I did not know them well.

"I do not know how experienced they were when it happened. I do not know how hard they had to work to reteach themselves. I do not know if they had to learn new tactics. I do not know what it took for them to return to battle, but they _did_ make it there. I believe you can, too, provided you have the will and put in the effort."

Another short pause, during which Kuro bit his lip and glanced away; expression carefully hidden from view, he finally relented, "I guess we'll see."

He did not sound convinced. Wolf would just have to prove it to him, then.

* * *

The clang of metal, a small grunt, a fumble.

"Again."

Green eyes watched once-nimble feet grow clumsy and uncoordinated.

"Again - "

The same eyes squeezed shut in cringing sympathy when a failed deflect almost sent Kuro tumbling to the ground.

"Enough!"

It was such a strong outburst to come from such a usually polite boy, and Húli darted out of the way as Kuro went storming past her to the campfire, tossing his katana into the dirt and plopping down in front of the dancing flame. He moved to press his palms into his eyes, and after only a second one of his hands jerked from his face as the motion undoubtedly brought pain. A frustrated growl tearing from his throat, Kuro pounded his fist into the dirt instead.

"This isn't working! I can't do this!"

"We knew your abilities would be impacted. You can still block just fine - "

"Because I know how you fight already, it's half guessing!" Húli glanced awkwardly between them as Wolf approached, sheathing Kusabimaru and crossing his arms. "I can't do it! Stop babying me, I'm not a child, I know this isn't going to work - "

"Then stop acting like one!"

Wolf could see it in the fear in Húli's eyes, even if he had not felt the burning rage clawing at his throat and trying to break free - Shura was waiting. It lurked even as he pushed it pointedly back, eager to pounce on any show of anger and turn it into an opportunity to break though. The outburst, at least, seemed to shock Kuro into cutting his tantrum short; his shoulders hunched and he looked away, shame flitting across his features.

Wolf took a deep breath. Held it. Released. Once certain all was calm again, he sat before the fire with one leg crossed on top of the other and his hands folded loosely in his lap.

"You are too used to success," he said when he was sure all traces of irritation had dissolved.

"Wha - excuse me?" Kuro, clearly, was not in the same boat, the unruly indignance of youth boiling to the forefront again. "What's _that_ supposed to mean? This entire journey has been failure after failure!"

"But not on your part," Wolf replied calmly. Rather than subject himself to watching the frustration twist Kuro's features and risk it becoming contagious, Wolf closed his eyes and breathed deeply once more. "Your personal success has always outweighed your failures. When things go wrong, it is rarely any fault of your own. You have never had to struggle with your own shortcomings."

Kuro made a noise of protest like he was going to retort, but seemed to think better of it. After a moment, his tongue still sharp, he replied, "I've _always_ felt weak. I was always useless, so what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"You were weak because nobody allowed you to become strong," Wolf patiently explained, "not because you were incapable of strength."

"Do you have a point here?"

The defensiveness was not fading. Wolf supposed it was to be expected - recent trauma after trauma, the rough years of growing into adulthood, falling short in something he was supposed to succeed at - but he sighed nonetheless.

"This is the first time you have ever come across an obstacle that was entirely your own, and you are handling it poorly. While understandable," he stressed as he practically felt Kuro puff up angrily next to him, "you refuse to try simply because it is not easy."

"And that makes me childish?"

"Yes."

Kuro's silence spoke to his surprise at the answer, and Wolf went on.

"I will not force you to continue trying - I also will not have you wasting our time. I am not going to sit through your tantrums that this is not as easy as you want it to be. If you do not feel ready to keep trying, then don't. I will be here when you are."

"And if I never am?" Not all the fight had left Kuro's voice, but most of it had faded to a quiet sort of defeat.

"You know I will never fault you for it. But as things are, regardless of your decision - " Wolf cracked one eye open to fix Kuro with an effectively scolding gaze. " - it would be best if you stopped testing my patience. While your frustration is not unwarranted, you must learn to stop directing it onto others."

 _Onto me_ was what he meant, though it felt unnecessary to say. He had no desire to stifle Kuro's feelings at such a critical time in his life, but as it were, fighting amongst each other was the last thing they needed. Kuro was troubled, and Wolf wanted to help - he truly did - but he could not resolve all of Kuro's problems for him.

Closing his eyes fully once more, he straightened his posture and inhaled deeply, then released it slowly. The pose was one with origins he did not know, but Owl had him take many times throughout his training; though it had taken him years to appreciate the art of meditation and Wolf had not practiced it in another many years, he supposed now would be the best time to take it back up. Clearing one's mind made them quite calm, after all, and it was a straightforward method as any other to regain a handle on his newly delicate temper.

"What are you doing?"

"I intend to meditate." He paused, then added, "Perhaps you could benefit from it, as well."

He doubted Kuro was new to the idea, but even someone with basic knowledge of what it was rarely took to it easily. Kuro mimicked Wolf's pose with relative ease, closed his eyes, and grew quiet; after watching him, Wolf closed his own eyes once more. He heard the soft pad of Húli's paws in the dirt as she came to lay between them, and felt Qiūjì shift and wreathe around his forearms in his lap.

"What should I be doing?"

"Meditation is just a conduit. What do you want to accomplish through it?"

" . . . I don't know." Kuro sounded more unsure of himself than he had in a long while. As expected, the faded anger gave way to insecurity; Wolf's heart twinged for him.

"Then clear your mind," he suggested.

"Of everything?"

"Of the thoughts clouding it. Your head does not necessarily need to be empty - focus on the wind in the grass, the feeling of the sun on your face. Things that do not require much concentration."

"And then?"

"Cross that bridge when you come to it. You are not meant to stress over the correct way to meditate."

Kuro gave a low hum in response, sounding not totally convinced of that, but he finally fell quiet and allowed Wolf to focus on his own mind. He was not sure he could achieve his own goals with quiet and a brief hour of peace, but it was the only option he truly had; until there was a more permanent solution, Wolf could only hope attempting to tame his anger would work well enough.

So he cleared his mind, and focused on the current quiet calm, and did his best to stop thinking about the problems that plagued them for a little while.

* * *

"When all this is over," Kuro piped up suddenly, "I'm going to open up a tea shop."

It was another hot day that met them; they were supposed to have reached another village by now, as stated by the map, but progress with an injured Wolf and impaired Kuro was notably slow - slower still with the sun bearing down on them. Soon, though, likely within the next hour, they would arrive at their next destination.

"You have mentioned it before," Wolf replied.

At least there was not much further to go. According to the map, this village was the last stop between where they were and a large lake - the Western sea, if the fates were to be kind to them.

"It was a distant dream back then," Kuro said, "but not anymore. No more adventuring after this. I'm going to settle down."

The thought was a surprisingly easy one to conjure; Kuro, an older version of him with longer hair and limbs, bustling about a busy little cafe, faceless customers seated at low tables complimenting him as he offered fine dishware to each of them. He looked so relaxed in Wolf's mind, carefree and smiling even as the overflowing demand seemed like it might be stressful.

"It is a fine idea."

Where did he fit into that dream?

Kuro hummed in faint acknowledgement, and they fell into quiet once more.

Very little had been accomplished with his swordsmanship since their explosive attempt; though Kuro was getting better at countering Wolf, it was as he said - he knew Wolf's patterns. He was only predicting his moves before they happened. His scope of vision was limited, and depth perception a greater problem than Wolf imagined. Without much, _much_ more training, Kuro would not achieve a skill level that was even remotely useful.

Kuro had not talked much about it. He had simply insisted they keep moving, citing the closeness to their goal, and led them into the rolling hills toward the next village. Wolf was not one to push.

The hills had been a source of hesitation for Wolf, however. He loathed the low visibility, the winding of the path, the way they muted much of the ambient noise - it felt as though they were dangerously exposed. Such sites were prime for an ambush, and as it would not have been the first time they had been exposed to highwaymen that preyed on travelers, he kept a hand on Kusabimaru's sheath and his eyes sharp.

It was not a highwayman that found them, though, else he would have heard them coming himself; no, it was Húli that leapt to attention with her ears pricked at some unknown sound, hackles rising in suspicion as she perked up in Wolf's other arm, and their little party paused and waited.

An inhuman threat, then?

And then Wolf saw it - fast as lightning, a small bronze blur flitted across the path, headed straight for the shinobi. Qiūjì shifted and bared his fangs, Húli let out a startled bark, and Kuro yelped as it brushed past his ankles. With Húli in his arms, Wolf had no hope of unsheathing his katana in time as the tiny thing leaped straight for his abdomen -

\- and snatched a coin purse straight off his obi before skittering right back down the path.

_"Hey!"_

Húli went tearing off after it before anyone could think to stop her, snarling and snapping and sprinting out of sight, and naturally Wolf and Kuro had no choice but to follow. Húli was making plenty of noise, at least, to keep on her tail, and the path did not diverge as they kicked up dirt in their effort to catch up.

Wolf had not expected the village to be so close. They had no time to express relief that they had found a place to rest, for surprisingly busy though the place was, there was quite the commotion of angry men and women scrambling about and shouting at something at their feet. Of course they had to arrive at midday, Wolf cursed, and grabbed Kuro's hand to better navigate the restless crowd.

He could hear Kuro apologizing behind him to the already furious villagers that Wolf was carelessly shoving past, but the shinobi was not about to lose track of the trail of chaos that Húli and her prey were leaving behind. Down the path they had entered, skirting around a main square with a well, down another wide path where he danced around two men in shining scarlet armor and then down a narrow alley mostly lined with houses - the crowds were less dense here, though still present, and Wolf scanned the ground for a glimpse of -

"There!" Kuro exclaimed, and pointed to Húli's bushy tail disappearing beyond around the corner of a building.

Narrowly avoiding toppling over a man carrying crates of fruit, Wolf darted around the corner - and almost stepped directly onto the fox they were chasing in question.

Kuro slammed into his back at the sudden stop, but Wolf did not turn to check if he was alright because Huli was growling and her hackles were sticking up higher than he had ever seen them and in front of her, standing nearly a foot taller than Wolf, was an older man with silvering hair and a strong build and familiarly piercing green eyes that bore directly into his own.

"Well, hello," the man said, sounding quite amused, and Wolf realized that there was a small creature that looked as though it was made of metal cupped in one of his hands. In the other he held the missing coin purse. "Welcome to Xining."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stern pair of men in shining red military armor were speaking to the innkeeper, who anxiously listened as they listed off Wolf and Kuro's descriptions.
> 
>  _"Well,"_ hissed Húli, who had been peeking through the backpack flap, _"shit."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possible cw for harassment?

No one moved. No one spoke, save for Húli's continuous low growl. Kuro hardly dared to even breathe. The street he could have sworn was bustling was now strangely empty, and yet the unnatural eyes of the man before them made him feel more watched than a thousand other pairs could.

"Now, don't be shy," he said in strangely fluent Japanese, and his voice was a paradox of smooth gravel, low and rumbling and its cadence so pointedly soothing it was uncomfortable. "It's not every day a missing god, its vessel, a foreign demon, and a homeless fox come knocking at my door."

 _Implying it's happened before,_ Kuro thought dryly. There was something . . . _suggestive_ in his tone, and Kuro could not tell if it was of the magical sort or the seductive kind. Perhaps both, he thought, as Qiūjì's lips drew back in a scowl.

Wait -

"You can see him, then?" he asked warily, his suspicion confirmed before the answer even came when the stranger locked eyes directly with the dragon.

"It's a marvel some people can't," he mused. His voice was complemented by unnaturally good looks, strangely familiar in their perfection - a chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, fine silvered hair, and the shadow of facial hair accompanied his entrancing eyes. "What luck has befallen me that the Western King would show up on my doorstep?"

"There is no such thing," Wolf said curtly, and Kuro watched with growing unease as the prosthetic fingers tightened around Kusabimaru's hilt. "Your _creature_ stole our coin, leading us here."

"Not by design, I assure you," the man replied lightly, not sounding very reassuring. "Tiān lù likes money. I can't train him out of stealing." But he did hold out his hand, the coin purse laid out neatly on his palm. After a moment's hesitation and fighting down the unsettled feeling in his gut - while strange, Kuro did not think he was in any danger - Kuro stretched his arm out to take it.

 _"Wait!"_ Húli barked, and it cracked like thunder. Her green eyes glimmered, matching the stranger's. _"Don't touch that. This guy, he's - "_

"A silver fox," Wolf said coolly.

That was what was familiar. Kuro remembered, now - Húli's human illusions had held the same unnatural beauty.

"Why, thank you," the fox all but purred, grinning at Wolf. The shinobi averted his gaze; the pink that dusted over his cheeks was not unfamiliar to Kuro, but he frowned at the sight.

 _"It's not funny,"_ Húli snapped.

"It's a little funny," Kuro conceded, though when he glanced back to the stranger he did not make his tone altogether much friendlier than the standoffishness that their party had already been displaying. "But she's right - why should we trust you?"

"Trust me with what?" This time, interestingly, there was no sense of trickery to the man's voice. He quirked an eyebrow, pointing out, "You've not asked anything of me. Should I have let tiān lù keep your coin?"

With that, he held the purse out pointedly again; rather than grab it himself, Kuro held out his own hand expectantly and allowed him to drop it into his palm. Somehow, it felt safer.

"I do believe, however, that you were brought here for a reason. _Besides_ my companion," he added pointedly when Húli scoffed. "Might we go inside? The topic is bound to become too sensitive for outsiders to potentially hear."

It was clear that none of them wished to enter. There was no reason to trust this fox in human's clothing, and entering his den seemed to be begging for trouble. Kuro glanced at the dragon perched on his shoulder, trying to portray his question without words, and for a long time Qiūjì was silent. After watching the fox open the door expectantly for them, finally, the god spoke only to Kuro.

_He is not a friend, but I do not think he is an enemy, either. Just be on your guard._

Only a little soothed at his words, Kuro unceremoniously scooped Húli into his arms and headed inside. She squirmed only for a moment in protest before falling still, and Kuro heard Wolf's footsteps behind him as he followed through the doorway. The door closed behind them, a green flame lit a lantern above, and . . .

Walls were covered in blades of all makes and sizes, glimmering in the fox fire and proudly displayed. A counter made of glass held ornate daggers within. Racks of finely carved bows lined the far wall, and amongst them was a doorway that offered the smallest glimpse of an indoor forge.

"You're a blacksmith?" Kuro could not help but wander, taking in the craftsmanship of the pieces.

"It is a hobby to pass the time," the fox replied, though he did not sound very modest at all. "The villagers give me much for my protection, but I prefer a more . . . _interactive_ give and take."

Something about the way he said it made Kuro's skin crawl. He turned away from the glass display to find Wolf keeping close to him, eyes never leaving the fox; similarly, most of the stranger's interest seemed to be in Wolf, despite his comments about Qiūjì. When Kuro pointedly cleared his throat, however, increasingly displeased with how uncomfortable this stranger was making his shinobi, their staring contest broke.

"The villagers call me Jun," the fox said, though no one had asked. "I presume you are passing through to the western sea?"

 _"Can't imagine how you figured that one out,"_ Húli muttered dryly under her breath.

"We are," Kuro confirmed over her, not eager to anger the deity in his own domain. It did not take a genius to realize this fox was much older and likely much more powerful than Húli. "We hope to deliver the dragon home."

"Then you should know that it will not be an easy task," Jun replied. "If you have not been told already, something foul has moved in since the king's absence."

Something foul? The other kings had mentioned something about it, but Kuro had not put much stock in the words when Qiūjì seemed more concerned with his brothers being on their doorstep. The dragon had not seemed to think much of it, if he had even put an ounce of thought into the warning at all. Kuro could not tell if the claws tightening on his shoulder were an indication of new or confirmed fears.

 _Tell me of it,_ Qiūjì commanded, the first time he had spoken in Jun's presence. Kuro did not know why he expected defiance, but was surprised when Jun complied easily.

"I do not know its name," he said, "but it is a disgusting creature. It made its home in your waters almost the instant you left, and they are waters no more - they are a toxin that leech into the land around the sea, killing everything around it. For you at the height of your power, it would be no threat; now, I would advise you tread carefully."

"I cannot imagine you have truly selfless reasons for telling us this." Wolf's voice was curt, and though the confrontation surprised them all Kuro found himself agreeing. Everything about this fox set off every alarm bell in Kuro's head.

"For the past two decades the poison has slowly crawled over the land, and it grows ever closer to this village. I will not be able to protect it. This place will die, and my people along with it. So no," Jun snapped, unpleasant for the first time since they had met him, "my reasons are not nearly as world-saving as yours, but I do not take kindly to such assumptions being made on my character by a lowly demon."

A demon - was that all Jun saw when looking at Wolf, or was it just to hurt him? Judging by the tension in Wolf's jaw, it was not a cut that dug deep, but one that angered him nonetheless, and anger was not something Wolf needed right now. Even Qiūjì drew his lips back in a snarl at the insult to his charge.

Quickly, Kuro diverted attention to himself the best he could. "Qiūjì," he tried, "do you know anything about a monster like that?"

"Qiūjì?" Jun echoed, amusement in his tone, but the dragon forced his glare away to meet Kuro's pleading eyes.

Just stay calm, he thought, praying the god could hear him. They did not need a confrontation.

 _I have an idea,_ was all Qiūjì offered, and after a moment it was clear he did not intend on expanding on it.

After a long moment of icy silence, Jun spoke again, most of the antagonism gone from his voice. "If there is anything I can offer, I will do so free of charge. We all wish to be free of this summer, and to welcome _Qiūjì_ back home."

He stressed the name like it was some sort of joke, and Kuro could not fathom why. Was there a name the dragon was _supposed_ to have? He had never offered one. Was it so strange that they would come up with a nickname in its stead? As far as Kuro could tell, it was not even a particularly ridiculous one.

When no one else answered, reluctantly, Kuro stepped up to do so himself; he did not want to stay here any longer. "Thank you, but - "

"A bow."

Kuro had never witnessed Wolf using a bow. It was honestly unnecessary, what with the new firearm attachment Aurelio had gifted him. Bullets, perhaps, but a bow?

Jun gave a low, thoughtful hum. "Metalworking is more my style, not wood . . . but I can make an exception for an impressive warrior such as yourself."

Wolf's face reddened again, deeper now, and Húli noticed this time, glancing between the shinobi and blacksmith. Kuro worried at his lower lip, anxious of his response, but instead of rising to the bait Wolf simply said, "Then get it done." He made for the door, and with his hand on the knob he added, "Kuro."

Kuro startled into action, hurriedly following his shinobi as they left the shop. Tension oozed from Wolf's rigid posture and clenched jaw - the blacksmith set him on edge more than anyone they had ever met, and for good reason. A cunning creature targeting his discomfort was a force to be wary of.

Before the door swung shut behind them, Jun called out, "Two days."

Wolf acted as though he did not hear it.

* * *

_"Hey, shinobi."_

Húli's petulant tone broke the silence of the room they had managed to rent. After the encounter with Jun, Wolf had made a beeline for the first inn they saw, and after smuggling Húli in with their pack he had taken to silently maintaining his weapons, a practice he had not partaken in for a while. Nobody had dared to speak, least of all Kuro, who knew _exactly_ what ailed him, but Húli worked up the courage after perhaps an hour - and she sounded like she had been chewing on it for a while.

Wolf did not reply, but it did not stop her from saying, _"How come_ his _flirting worked, huh? I didn't get anything out of you."_

"You are a child." Wolf seemed rather like he did not want to be having this conversation; were it Kuro's place, he would step in, but instead he hesitated and merely listened.

 _"I'm older than you! And it's not like you knew anyway!"_ She sounded _offended,_ like Wolf's lack of interest in her was a personal insult. Was she truly insecure about such things? _"So what if you swing that way, I tried before - "_

"I do not swing _any_ way," Wolf interrupted sharply. "I was not flustered, I was _uncomfortable."_

This was not news to Kuro, of course; Wolf's disinterest in such charms had made him an even more appealing choice of retainer than any other the Hirata family had considered, and their faith had been rewarded more than once now during their journey. It was not a new occurrence, either. Kuro shuddered to think where he would be had Wolf been tempted by anyone else, demon or human alike, whether on the mainland or even back in Ashina.

 _"Oh,"_ Húli finally said, and Wolf scoffed quietly and continued to sharpen his axe. _"Good."_

"Good?" Kuro echoed, finally speaking up. A thought struck him, and incredulously he asked, "What, do _you_ like Wolf?"

 _"What? Gods, no,"_ Húli retorted, sounding genuinely perturbed by the notion. ("Thanks," Wolf snorted. The fox ignored him.) _"I just don't like the idea of some old asshole being better than me."_

"He does still have control over a whole village," Kuro mused.

_"I'm going to set you on fire."_

_Don't even think about it._

Qiūjì's interjection had Kuro chortling despite himself, and Húli rolled her eyes and lowered her head back onto her paws. Kuro's fingers stroked absently through her fur, and the room fell back into quiet save for the scrape of whetstone against metal.

It was a strange, almost surreal thought - it was maintenance, sure, but also preparation. They were close to their destination; even had Qiūjì mentioned nothing of the sort, Kuro could almost feel the finality of it all looming. The western sea was coming ever closer, and within it apparently a toxic beast of immense power. That was not even highlighting the still very real threat of the price on their heads - even after they had restored Qiūjì's power and status, could they be guaranteed safety from the various bounty hunters and the emperor's forces?

Wolf was preparing for a fight. Kuro wanted to, as well, but with his swordplay useless at this point . . .

"What are we going to do while we wait?" Perhaps Wolf would have him train more, or they would go shopping for supplies - whatever they did, Kuro felt antsy at the mere _thought_ of staying still for three days. They had not remained anywhere for so long since Wolf's recovery, and before that, with Aurelio, which had been enough to bring the emperor's men knocking -

"We lay low," Wolf replied simply. "Everywhere we go, the military has been close behind; this stop will offer them the opportunity to catch up. We cannot afford to be seen by them."

He was right. If they were found, that would be a massive wrench in their plans, possibly even destroying them altogether. Still, he tried not to show his disappointment; instead, he rummaged in their pack for food, and as the night stretched on he tried not to think about the days ahead they would spend cooped up.

The next two days passed uneventfully - almost disappointingly so, in Kuro's opinion. At least Húli could go out and stretch her legs, disguised as some faceless person not associated with them, and for that Kuro was envious. Otherwise, all was still and quiet. Wolf rarely spoke, an indication of his discomfort in this village owned by Jun, and Qiūjì . . . he seemed to be resting at all hours. His own version of preparing for the trouble ahead, Kuro supposed.

On the third day, Kuro tried not to appear too antsy as they waited for the sun to hit its peak - Wolf had not wanted to risk catching Jun early, and thus being forced to wait until he finished the piece - though the illusion was broken when he leapt to the door as soon as Wolf said it was time to leave. Belongings were gathered, Húli was stored away in their pack, and they made the trek down the stairs of the inn to return the room key and leave -

\- only to jump back into the hallway and hide, for a stern pair of men in shining red military armor were speaking to the innkeeper, who anxiously listened as they listed off Wolf and Kuro's descriptions.

 _"Well,"_ hissed Húli, who had been peeking through the backpack flap, _"shit."_

"What do we do?" Kuro whispered, fighting the panic rising in his throat. Wolf was silent for only a moment before he lifted Húli from the pack.

"You - transform and return the key. Kuro and I will leave through the back. We meet back at the blacksmith's shop."

_"Got it!"_

"The back - ?"

Kuro's question was ignored as Húli shifted and changed, settling on the appearance of a young man in a simple robe - thankfully a more convincing look of normalcy than the first illusions she had shown them.

As the disguised fox waltzed into the foyer, Wolf grasped Kuro's hand and led him further down the hallway, past several residential rooms. The back - how would Wolf know where 'the back' was? Judging by the way Wolf glanced around as they jogged down the hall, he was only guessing - but his guess led them into a large kitchen that was empty save a pair of gossiping chambermaids.

They stopped dead when the strangers entered, and though Wolf barely spared them a glance, Kuro froze similarly, offering them an awkward smile.

"Residents aren't supposed to come back here," one said, irritation thinly veiled under a false politeness.

"I'm sorry," Kuro replied honestly, bowing low. "We, um - we were just - "

"Hey!" the second one cried, pointing past Kuro. "What are you doing?!"

Her finger was directed at Wolf, who was pushing open the wooden cover of a large window and sticking his head out of it. He glanced both ways, propped a foot up on the sill, and gestured for Kuro to join him; Kuro could only mouth wordlessly for a moment before clapping his hands together in a silent plea to the young women and taking Wolf's hand to help him clamber over the windowsill.

He landed in the dirt of a narrow alleyway, and Wolf touched down beside him. The wood closed behind them with a clanging thud, and before Kuro could process what was happening, Wolf was hooking an arm around his waist and aiming the other toward the inn's roof.

"Hold on," he ordered. Kuro barely had enough time to wrap his arms tight around Wolf's shoulders before there was the almost-silent _thwip_ of the grapple shooting toward the roof, and Kuro fought not to scream as they shot upward.

The momentum gave him whiplash, but it was enough for them to land atop the building next to the inn. Kuro had only a few seconds to marvel over the strength of the spider-silk before Wolf released him and took to sneaking across the roof to peek at the main road.

Kuro carefully followed suit, and balked at the sight of another pair of guards talking to passersby - an elderly woman carting two children along, who all seemed annoyed at the interruption of their day.

"How will we get to Jun?" he fretted, and Wolf backed away, heading for the next roof over.

"We stay off the ground," he replied, making the short hop across the gap. Kuro followed him, the distance an easy enough one to cross.

"What if they look up?"

Wolf scoffed out something that sounded like a laugh. "No one ever looks up."

His tone spoke of experience. Kuro believed it, but questioned how things might be different for a master of stealth versus a comparably clumsy teenager. He was surprised, however, to find the added weight of Qiūjì and their pack did not weigh him down much, and he followed Wolf across the rooftops with an unfamiliar ease. Besides a larger gap or two, he did not need any help across.

When had this weight grown so miniscule to him?

As they traveled they found even more soldiers swarming the streets, interrogating passersby and peering down alleyways and speaking amongst themselves, and after the scene they had made in arriving to Xining, Kuro feared just how many people might have leads for them. How had so many men mobilized here? So long spent without seeing hide nor hair of the emperor's forces, and now here they were, conveniently crossing paths with the fugitives?

The soldiers seemed to thin out as they grew closer to Jun's shop. As they leapt over one of the last gaps, the air grew suddenly, frighteningly chill; by the time Kuro's feet were firm on the next roof, he had shaken it off, but Wolf paused, hand drifting to the socket of his prosthetic as he peered about them, seemingly for the source of the sensation.

 _It appears the blacksmith has set up a ward,_ Qiūjì supplied helpfully, and Kuro tried not to wonder if it was Shura that made crossing it so much more unpleasant for the shinobi.

The street that the smithy sat on was entirely deserted. Wolf dropped gracefully to the ground below, and held out his arms to first catch the pack, then Kuro. A rapid knock on Jun's door, and it cracked open - and the smith reached out to yank them both inside.

"It seems your presence has brought unwanted attention," Jun said, and the displeasure in his tone made Kuro shiver. "The ward will not hold forever."

He turned to one of the glass displays; atop it was a finely carved piece of wood, painted black and polished to shine. It took Kuro a moment to realize it was an unstrung bow. With a gesture from Jun, Wolf stepped forward to lift it from the table, weighing it in his hands and peering down the length of it. Kuro wished he knew a thing or two about bows, but instead he was left to watch as the shinobi inspected it.

Jun offered a bowstring that looked to be made of hemp, the ends already tied to the correct length, and Wolf hooked it over each notch with the ease of practice - though Kuro had never once seen him wield a bow, he supposed it was likely the shinobi knew how to use one.

"You did not give me any details," Jun spoke up again. Kuro watched as Wolf did a test draw, and noted how symmetrical the bow was - not like what he had seen back in Ashina. "I went with a kaiyuan bow. It seemed fitting for a warrior of your talent."

"It is not for me."

"The boy, then?" The fox scoffed. "You should have said so before. The draw weight is too strong for a child."

Wolf did not acknowledge him, instead holding the bow out to Kuro to take.

"For me?" Though Kuro burned at Jun's jibe, he could not disagree - he did not know if he was cut out for this.

"Try drawing it," was all Wolf said.

Hesitantly, Kuro accepted the bow; it was heavier than it looked, but ultimately still only wood. "How do I . . . ?"

"Whatever is comfortable."

The leather grip was smooth under his left hand, and Kuro hooked his fingers on either side of the bowstring's notch. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled back; it was an effort, but once he had the string drawn fully to his cheek, he found he could hold it there easily. Truly, it was not as hard as he had expected.

Carefully, Kuro returned the string to its former position, and Wolf nodded decisively.

"Happy birthday," he said, and Kuro's brain stopped entirely.

It was his birthday? Today? It had been two weeks - _only_ two weeks? And Wolf had remembered? It . . . it seemed so insignificant, now, but Wolf still . . .

The shinobi turned back to Jun, and though the fox furrowed his brows he said nothing. "How much?"

"Nothing for a retainer of the Western King," Jun replied, "but you had better put it to good use. And take some arrows with you." He retrieved a quiver from a hook on the wall, and pulled perhaps two dozen arrows from a bin of them; Wolf hooked them over a shoulder for safekeeping. "Now - "

The door swung violently open then, and in came Húli, still disguised. He slammed the door shut with his back to it and blurted, "We gotta go - that little spell isn't going to confuse the soldiers for much longer."

Jun gestured for them all to follow, and led to the back room that held the forge. There was a nondescript back door that slid open to an empty side street, and after a brief glance around he led them outside.

"This way."

Jun and Húli walked on either side of Wolf and Kuro like bodyguards; despite their (admittedly one-sided) feud, Kuro realized, they had a common interest - to see the Western King returned safely to his throne, even if Húli had a more personal care for it. Qiūjì himself was curled tightly about Kuro's shoulders, gaze fixed behind them as they hurried down the road, and as the village's edge came into view those talons gripped his shoulder.

_There!_

"Halt!"

Kuro's pace stuttered, and Jun cursed under his breath, turning on his heel. Wolf was quick to follow suit, pushing Kuro behind him and placing a hand on Kusabimaru's hilt, and curiously, Húli closed the gap to shield Kuro completely. Between them, Kuro spied the crowd of soldiers; there were more than he could see, crowded in the small road, but in front stood a man with an ornate helmet and gaudier armor than his fellows, and the men on either side of him trained arrows at their little group.

"By order of the Emperor, you are under arrest! Drop your weapons and come quietly!"

Wolf, of course, did not understand their Mandarin, but Kuro doubted he would obey even if he did. There was a metallic slide and click, and Aurelio's firearm addition emerged from the wrist plate of Wolf's prosthetic. He had only used it once thus far; Kuro was not sure how effective it would be against the mass of soldiers at this distance, and certainly did not want to find out.

"Military men are always fools." Jun stepped ahead of them, hands in his sleeves. His voice was airy but his expression stony. The archers raised their bows higher, but did not shoot; the sight of an elderly man was not a particularly intimidating one. "Your country is dying from this heat, yet you blindly follow the greed of a man who would use the solution for his own selfish desires."

A hand pushed at Wolf's shoulder, and Húli motioned with his eyes; the three of them backed away, leaving plenty of room for Jun in the middle of the street.

"I will give you one chance to leave my village. I find battle quite barbaric."

The soldiers paused before a laugh rippled through their ranks, and Jun shook his head and sighed. He glanced back to his trio of guests.

"There is only one path to your destination," he told them. "Be safe, and go quickly."

And then he began to change.

Unlike Húli, who shrunk to her fox form, Jun _grew._ His back hunched over and he stooped to all fours, and as his body expanded more and more his form changed and morphed to that of a great fox that towered over the buildings. Silvery-white fur sprouted from his skin as an elegant snout and ears protruded from his head, and not one but _nine_ bushy tails flicked through the air in a universal sign of anger.

 _"Jiǔwěihú,"_ Húli whispered, eyes huge.

"Fire!" the officer cried.

Arrows sprung from bows but bounced harmlessly off thick, impenetrable fur. Jun reared his head back, chest swelling with a great inhale, and heat washed over them as he expelled vivid blue flames in a wide arc. The roar that accompanied it was deafening, and the screams of the soldiers as fire filled the road and melted their armor was chilling. A powerful paw pinned a soldier that tried to run, and another man was swept up into wicked jaws and thrown against a building with a sickening _crack._

"Come on!" Húli shouted, and in the blink of an eye she had shifted back into a fox and was sprinting down the path; with Jun clearly capable of handling himself, Wolf and Kuro hurried after her.

The street ended rather abruptly with the buildings, but the less-worn path went on through a wide field that disappeared over the horizon. The tall grass provided little cover, and although it was better than nothing, their only real option was hope that Jun would not leave any stragglers to follow.

Something told Kuro they would not have to worry. Still, he tried not to dismiss the possible threat.

There was no real point to running - either the soldiers would follow or they wouldn't - but they still kept up their pace of escape until Kuro's legs ached and he began to lag behind. The snarls of the nine-tailed fox had faded into silence until there was nothing left but the breeze in the grass and their heavy breathing. Even Wolf was not unaffected by the distance, though he remained the most gathered of them.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Kuro could not help but ask, and Húli scoffed.

 _"He'd better be,"_ she said, _"or he's not befitting of his status."_

"Regardless," Wolf cut in, "we should not let his distraction go to waste. We must keep moving."

There was nothing to do but agree, and they continued down the path toward the setting sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would y'all want an epilogue? i'll probably post it as its own fic, but i do be considering it


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had sought this ending to prevent sacrifice. He would live - they would _all_ live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw violence!

"Deep breath - "

Kuro inhaled with the command.

"Release."

With a lethal _thwip,_ the bowstring launched the arrow through the air with so much force it embedded itself into the rough bark of Kuro's target well past the arrowhead.

"Good," Wolf praised, moving past him to wrench the arrow out of the tree, and Kuro lowered his bow and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "You are catching on quickly."

"There's less to think about with a bow than a sword," Kuro replied modestly, though he still preened at the compliment. "I feel like it does most of the work."

At the very least, the bow was powerful enough that it compensated for Kuro's lacking depth perception; it took a great distance before gravity had the chance to impact arrows, and Kuro still had an acceptable enough sense of distance to adjust his aim from there. It came more naturally to him than the blade, and if Wolf was to be honest he far preferred this. The bow would keep him out of the fighting but still helping, while Wolf was the one getting his hands dirty.

The woods they had found were full of conifers. Birds settled in the branches, picking idly at the unfamiliar berries among them, and when Wolf paused practice to climb one and survey their surroundings he could see their destination in the distance.

The sea - the lake? It was massive, but land-locked - was black as night, and the grassland around it just as dark and dead. He could see very little of the area beyond the trees, but his eyes followed the line of death as poison bled through the countryside and killed all it came in contact with. The path they followed to the Western Sea was obscured by the woods - something that kept Wolf alert as he rejoined Kuro and Húli.

"We do not know if the path ahead is clear," he said as he dropped to the ground, and found the pine needles muffled the sound of his fall. Something to keep in mind. "Even if it is, we do not know anything about the foe ahead of us, unless . . . "

The dragon around Kuro's shoulders opened his eyes. Undoubtedly conscious of the several sets of eyes on him, Qiūjì studied each of them in turn before turning his eyes toward the lake. It was not visible from here, but Wolf had no doubt he knew its exact location.

 _It is a disgusting creature,_ he said at last. _Were I at full power, I could eliminate it with ease. As is . . ._

 _"Wonderful,"_ Húli remarked dryly. _"So we don't even know if we can beat this thing?"_

"We have to try," Kuro said, shooting Húli a reprimanding look. "I mean, two immortals and a demon have to put up some kind of fight, right?"

As though Kuro or Húli posed any real threat to a beast that sounded like it was of Qiūjì's caliber. No, Wolf would have to handle this alone, as everything else - it would be enough work for the others to keep themselves safe, let alone help.

_It would be possible to kill Xiangliu with the Mortal Blade, but you must not underestimate him._

"Xiangliu?" Kuro echoed, and Wolf could see more than hear the sigh, the dragon's flank heaving and settling tiredly.

 _An old menace,_ Qiūjì went on in lieu of reply. _A many-headed snake. He used to have a master, but he has been left unchecked for too long. You must be careful - every centimeter of him is poison and evil, and the venoms in his fangs would kill a mortal in an instant._

Wonderful. Wolf had faced down lethal beasts before, however, and Qiūjì seemed to think this was within his abilities - though the fact that he did not give the odds was of more than a little concern. How much could he count on the dragon's blessing to help him? Was it worth it to allow Kuro to assist, or should he play it safe and keep him out of harm's way?

"Whatever the case," he said, "we should get moving."

 _"Food first,"_ Húli piped up in complaint. _"We haven't eaten since yesterday morning."_

"We're kind of low on food," Kuro remarked with a frown. "The bread is stale and I don't know if the fruit is trustworthy."

Wolf brought a hand to his brow, a weary sigh leaving his lips. "All right," he said, reluctantly pushing down an insistent _the sooner we get this over with, the better._ "Then I will teach you to hunt."

Kuro's expression went a million different directions at once - excitement, then discomfort, and finally apprehension. Regardless, he shouldered his bow and followed Wolf deeper into the woods.

* * *

Though Kuro cringed at the thought of killing an animal for food, he was exceptionally good at it. Wolf was _almost_ envious of how quickly he picked up skills, and had to remind himself it was due to his youth that Kuro was so quick to learn. After a quick meal utilizing the last of their water and meat from the rabbit Kuro had reluctantly dressed under Wolf's instruction, they set off once more down the forest path.

It was important for Kuro to learn these things, even if they made him uncomfortable. He was growing up, and Wolf was getting older - the shinobi would not be there to care for him forever.

Wolf paused only momentarily at the thought. It was as though he did not expect to survive this encounter, he realized - perhaps he truly did not think he would. Was it so far-fetched to believe he could do this? But he had fallen to mere men on this journey, to a silly sickness that had never ailed him before, and was now plagued by a demon that tried to take over his body at every opportunity -

A warm hand wrapped around his, a familiarly anxious gesture, and by pure reflex Wolf squeezed it gently. Húli made a demanding noise, and Wolf automatically held out his prosthetic to catch her as she leapt onto him to be carried.

He had sought this ending to prevent sacrifice. He would live - they would _all_ live.

The sounds of the forest grew quieter as they continued on, then dissolved into silence. There was naught but the whistle of wind among the branches, and then, all at once, a foul stench washed over them. Wolf fought off the momentary dizziness, but Kuro wavered on his feet, and Húli pushed her face into Wolf's shitagi to fend the smell off.

"How welcoming," Kuro managed past the sleeve of his yukata.

_The smell of death. We're close._

As they continued on, they passed trees in progressive stages of decay, each one growing more withered until they were all blackened and barren. To see a coniferous tree without its needles seemed so unbelievably _wrong,_ and this sense of wrongness continued as the trees started to thin out and the horizon dipped, revealing the path went sharply downhill. They could see nothing beyond the drop.

The Western Sea grew visible as they approached, black and still, and then the distant path winding over it, and the massive _torii_ they would pass through - and then, one by one, distant figures were revealed to them. The sun bounced off gleaming red armor, and they stood shoulder-to-shoulder before the gate. Among them Wolf could see a few who bore armor more ornate - generals, no doubt.

So this was where the Emperor's men had been - he had hoped to cut them off before they could complete their mission.

At this distance, with no more tree cover and all the soldiers' attention pointed toward the woods, there was no hope of sneaking past them. Indeed, it was clear that they had been noticed; one of the generals pointed a polearm in their direction, and as one, the soldiers readied weapons.

"They don't look like they're trying to take us peacefully this time," Kuro whispered nervously, squeezing his hand.

"I have killed more than enough of their men," Wolf grimly pointed out. _And they do not know our immortality has limits,_ he added silently to himself. If they suffered injuries in their capture, what did the Emperor's forces care? They were meant to be above mortal harm, after all.

Such rumors made things troublesome.

With a simple gesture of his prosthetic arm, Wolf uncovered the pistol mechanism and took aim, Húli redirecting to cling to his shoulder. Aurelio had told him such a small barrel made for poor accuracy, but looking down at the sea of men below - certainly hundreds of them waiting to attack - it would be rather difficult to miss.

The thunderous crack rent the air and echoed across the open, dead fields, and the soldiers below recoiled in shock. While they gathered themselves, Wolf pulled Kuro back in retreat, and they hurried to the cover of trees. It would take the army time to scramble up the steep slope and find them, and Wolf was counting on that to create distance.

"Húli!" he shouted, and she understood in a heartbeat. He heard her inhale, and then felt heat at his back as she expelled flames from her lungs. A brief glance behind them revealed green fire consuming the dead grass, already reaching double his height as it crawled after them toward the treeline.

Kuro kept pace with him, no longer the small child that could not keep up, and when Wolf sent out his grappling hook to yank them into the treetops Kuro landed with surprising grace on a wide branch. He still looked remarkably shaken, but he pulled the bow from his back without any prompting and strung it quickly.

"What's the plan?" he asked, and though Wolf could see a tremble in his hands his expression was determined.

"There are too many to handle for the two of us. Húli's flames will take a few out, but - "

 _"I can't produce much,"_ Húli said for him, _"and dead grass burns out too quickly. I don't suppose_ you _have any help for us, Qiūjì?"_

 _Nothing that can be done quickly enough,_ the dragon confirmed with a shake of his head.

"What about the whistle?" Kuro asked suddenly.

Wolf had forgotten all about it, but he dug quickly through their pack in search of the small satchel Joro had gifted them so long ago. _For emergencies._ He could not read the inscription on the whistle himself, but he recalled what Kuro had told him so long ago.

_"Will she hear it?"_

"There is only one way to find out."

Wolf brought it to his lips and blew - and no sound came. Or so he thought - Kuro cringed and put his hands over his ears, and Húli recoiled, a small whine accompanying the gesture as her ears flattened against her head. Had they heard something he had not? Qiūjì seemed similarly unaffected, like Wolf, but then what noise could cause a god such trouble?

They waited for a few moments with bated breath, but there was no time to wait longer. It was absurd, of course, to expect Joro to notice it from such a distance, even if she could hear whatever noise it made. Thinking quick, Wolf prepared his flame vent - if nothing else, he could maximize the damage Húli was causing without making her work any harder. His axe would be a good addition for any soldier with a shield, and perhaps Sabimaru could do some real damage -

"Stay," he told Kuro, making his voice as stern as possible. "You will be safest here, and more useful at a distance."

"What are you going to do?!" Kuro's eye widened, and he grabbed for Wolf's sleeve like it would stop him. "You can't take them all alone!"

"I have no choice," Wolf retorted, "and we have no time to wait for help - "

And then the tree began to shake.

Kuro yelped and, thinking fast, Wolf fastened his grappling hook into the trunk and wrapped an arm around Kuro to keep them anchored. Quickly he realized that every tree was swaying - that the very _ground_ was trembling, as though something beneath it was rampaging. In the distance, the fire began to split and travel its own way, and past it Wolf could see soldiers attempting to put it out and push past the line.

And then the dirt began to crack open, and from the fissure spiders began to pour out.

They were black as night, absolutely massive, and difficult to see among the deadened foliage, but something that was _not_ hard to locate was when a pale, clawed hand reached out of the earth. Another followed it as the crack widened, and as the soldiers began to break through the wall of fire, a head sprouted from the ground. Inky black locks spilled over nearly white shoulders, followed by a bare torso, and shouts of alarm sounded as the spiders found prey in the Emperor's men.

"Joro!" Relief filtered through Kuro's voice, and when the spider demon managed to fully hoist her body from the ground, she raised her head to them.

"It's been a while, Western King," she greeted, then to Wolf, "and you, shinobi. You smell different. I see you're both still wearing my clothes - and what _is_ that little pet you've picked up?"

 _"I don't like her,"_ Húli instantly spat.

"We can catch up later," Wolf interrupted, joining Joro on the ground. "There are vermin to take care of."

Joro's mouth split into an unnaturally wide, wicked grin. "Good," she hissed, and her face contorted further, until it became that of the demon she was meant to be - fangs so large they could not fit in her mouth, extra eyes, and all. "I have a bone or two to pick with them."

The Emperor's men had always been a thorn in Aurelio's side. The spider undoubtedly held them in the same contempt.

With a nod of understanding, they leapt into the fray together.

Joro's children were doing their job - the frontline soldiers they made a beeline for panicked blindly, making for easy targets. Between Kusabimaru and a set of wicked claws and acidic venom, a dozen or so soldiers fell to their deaths before any resistance was put up.

But it had to come eventually. A deflection of one blow, a counter that sliced through some fool's gullet. An opportunistic soldier taking advantage of the opening, and Joro's venom splashing back on Wolf's haori as she melted the assailant's face. The squeals of spiders that found themselves squashed underfoot. The scream of metal as Wolf blocked and reciprocated blow after blow and the army began shaking off the spiders and advancing on their target.

And then the covering fire came.

While the emperor's men had little use for their arrows or even the opportunity to use them in closed quarters, Kuro was in an positively opportune spot to rain down hell. None of the soldiers right next to Joro or Wolf, no, but two or three men away; they dropped like flies, most arrows finding their marks in throats or chests. Even the ones that bounced harmlessly off armor offered a distraction and caused panic.

But Kuro only had so many arrows - they could not count on him. Wolf shoved his blade through a soldier's gut and raised his prosthetic to glance a blow off his axe, and tried to take stock of the force they fought. Corpses were strewn at their feet, making for difficult obstacles to fight around, but more and more soldiers filtered through the trees even as the spiders crawled over them and wreaked as much havoc as they could. More numbers than power, Wolf thought -

\- and then, in the corner of his vision, he watched a man covered with bites raise his dao and slash straight through the back of an ally.

As though that were the catalyst, a chorus of alarmed shouting, then downright panic rippled through the ranks as the poisoned soldiers were sent into an absolute frenzy. They turned on their fellow men, striking anything that moved, and Joro yanked Wolf back from the fray as she retreated somewhat to watch the chaos. They took the moment to catch their breath as former adversaries became victims, and satisfaction radiated from Joro like a tangible force.

The reprieve was not long, but the forces that came for them now trickled through more manageably, and their shaken confidence from the crippling of their forces made them simple to defeat. The metallic smell of sweat and armor had rapidly given way to the coppery tang of blood, and as a severed jugular sprayed even more onto Wolf's haori he wondered if there was any hope of it all washing out.

The men escaping from the chaos, however, were thinking smarter; despite Wolf's efforts to kill them as they came and Joro's uncanny ability to impale any who tried to flank her on powerful forelegs, they found themselves surrounded. Their brief rest was not enough to prepare him to fend off many attackers at once. As he cleaved through one man's skull with his axe, he fumbled a deflect with his katana, and the offending blade screeched down the length of Kusabimaru to sink into his thigh.

With agony came anger, and for an instant, his vision was of nothing but flames - but then an arrow planted itself through the soldier's throat, and simultaneously, Joro gave an outraged, unnatural screech. The distraction was enough to shake him free of the claws at his mind, and he turned to find a spear had plunged deep into the spider demon's abdomen.

Concern was smothered by wariness when it became clear that Joro was more angry than harmed - and far more furious than Wolf had been.

As he fought to stay upright and stumble back from the next two soldiers advancing on him, short dao still deep in his flesh, Joro's body twisted at a horribly unnatural angle. A clawed hand wrapped around the handle of the spear and, with a sickening squelch and crack, wrenched it from the carapace.

They had made a mistake - they had given her a weapon.

And Joro was mighty with it. Wolf was strong, but Joro was a force of nature, the sweeping blows she made with the polearm tossing men aside like they were mere toys even as bones audibly cracked. Another was impaled, and she turned and skewered the two advancing on Wolf before they could threaten him further. Another man was beaten down by his own dead allies, and . . .

And there wasn't much left, Wolf realized, backing against a tree before his leg gave up on him altogether. More soldiers had been poisoned than he thought; so few were left standing - two dozen? was it really so few? - and as Joro advanced on them, several scattered like the rats they were. Was that it, then? Not only had several of them killed their own, but even more _ran?_

Well. That was hardly a surprise. Wolf would not stick around in a war, either, if the men meant to back him up were suddenly trying to kill him.

Joro had it handled, slaughtering the survivors foolish enough to try her, so Wolf scanned the treetops, trying to remember which he left Kuro in. His head was growing foggy and his sense of direction skewed - where was it? Was he even looking in the right direction? It was not as though there were leaves to hide within, so why was it so hard to locate his charge?

Come to think of it - it would not have been hard for the soldiers to find the source of the arrows. Had harm come to him? Had he been hit, maybe fallen? Wolf struggled to rise to his feet again, but his leg was not having it.

And then one of the trees began to shimmer, as though the air itself was coming undone, and as the glamour dissipated Wolf could see Kuro and Húli tucked safely on a branch, exactly where Wolf had left them. Of course - the fox's illusions. She had kept them hidden so Kuro could help without being seen. Wolf should have thought of that plan himself.

Kuro was slow to maneuver his way down the tree, dropping from branch to branch and clinging to the trunk as he went, but eventually he slithered ungracefully to the forest floor without any help and caught Húli as she bounded after him. He looked rather green, Wolf noted past the dizziness, and Kuro pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as he picked his way across the battlefield.

Kuro had never killed before, Wolf realized, and he let himself slide to the ground as the others approached. No wonder he looked so sick. He would rub Kuro's back if he could stand, but as it were, the blood loss was quickly making his leg quite numb.

"I'm proud of you," tumbled from his lips before he even knew what he was saying, and Kuro paused, a myriad of emotions flickering over his face so quickly Wolf couldn't pinpoint any. Húli shook her head and sighed.

_"For crying out loud, Wolf . . . "_

"Okay," Kuro finally replied, ignoring her, and he knelt down by Wolf's side. "Um . . . okay. Thank you. But let's figure this out now, all right?"

A familiar tone - he was trying very hard to keep calm. Wolf squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to clear his head, and nodded. He was losing more blood than he initially expected. Carefully, so as to not jostle his leg further, he sat up and shrugged off his haori. It was worse for wear, covered in blood that was not his own, but he found a dry spot of it and prepared to exert pressure.

"Let me," came Joro's voice.

Kuro took charge of the cloth, and the spider demon wrapped her fingers around the short dao. She counted off, something Wolf hardly registered, before the blade was being expertly pulled from his flesh. The slide of metal through muscle and skin burned like hellfire, and as the fingers of his prosthetic curled into the dirt he muffled the pathetic groan that was torn from his throat by biting down on his arm guard.

"Just barely missed the artery," Joro said past the fog. "Fox - I need fire. Carefully."

Just 'fox,' huh? Húli was bound to hate -

_"Fuck!"_

A string of expletives left Wolf's mouth against his will as a very tangible burn seared through his flesh, nothing like the fire that sometimes burned within. He was very alert, now, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sheer agony of it, but it seemed Joro had expected this - she was seated quite firmly on his shin, preventing his movement or escape. He craned his head to see past the orange blur that was Húli, but then Kuro was there, taking up most of his view.

"Language," he scolded half-heartedly, grabbing onto the shinobi's hand, and Wolf squeezed it as hard as he could to hold in any further outbursts.

It wasn't entirely successful, but he had managed to calm somewhat by the time it came to stitching the wound shut, and Húli nosed at their clasped hands in silent apology. Something like a cough shook her little frame as she settled in his lap.

Wolf's grip loosened once it came time to tie off the string, and when Joro backed off, the hole in her abdomen became visible; it wept with a sickly, green-yellow ooze, much like the remains of many children splattered across the battlefield.

"What about you?" Kuro asked, and she shook her head, approaching the nearest of her surviving children. They surrounded the group somewhat haphazardly - those that were not feeding, at least.

"Thread won't heal this," she replied simply, as though the wound did not bother her in the slightest. "It will mend in time. My children, on the other hand . . . "

"I'm sorry."

"Apologies won't bring them back," Joro snapped, then sighed, reigning in the volatile response. "I chose to bring them here. This battlefield will be a fine place to raise more - assuming your dragon has no objections."

"He is in no place to refuse," Wolf pointed out, and Joro cocked her head at him as he started to move. His head was clearer, now, after the shock of the pain, and both the tree he leaned against and Kuro's hand served as support as he hoisted himself up.

The spider demon seemed rather surprised at the declaration, and beside him, Kuro nodded agreement. "I say you earned your right to settle here. We owe you that much, at least, and it'd be good to know you're close."

 _You imply I have any intention of denying her this,_ Qiūjì piped up, sounding mildly irate, but Kuro only shot him a sheepish smile in apology.

Now standing fully, Wolf took a tentative step forward as Kuro anxiously tried to support him - he was still dizzy and his leg ached fiercely, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. They had no time to rest. Even if they could afford a small break, there were no resources for them to live on while Wolf recovered; corpses were not a meal fit for humans, after all.

"I presume you're going to go take care of _that."_

"It's all we have left to do."

Joro frowned, glancing in the direction of the lake with apprehension scrawled all over her face. She reached out and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and every one of her eight eyes was stern and serious.

"Whatever happens out there," she said, "You had better come out of it alive. Both of you. Don't let his death be for nothing."

Aurelio had not been the only one. So many had died to get them here - Wolf would not let any of their sacrifices go to waste.

"It will not be in vain," he promised and, nodding reluctantly, Joro released them. Before they could leave, however, Kuro reached for Húli and held her out to the spider.

"Take care of her while we're gone, please?"

 _"What?"_ Húli immediately began to struggle in his hands, but didn't get very far before another cough wracked her frame. _"No way! I'm coming with you!"_

"No, you're not," Kuro sternly told her. "We're very grateful for all your help, but you overworked yourself with all that magic! You need to rest."

Before Húli could protest further, she coughed again, and this time Wolf could see a plume of black smoke escape between her fangs. She sent pleading eyes Wolf's way, green shimmering through the eye sockets of the skull she adorned, but he shook his head firmly. Kuro was right - she needed to sit this one out.

"We will return," he reassured her, reaching out to scratch under her chin, and she sagged in Kuro's hands. The fight left her body, and Húli allowed herself to be handed over to Joro, who was surprisingly gentle as she cradled the little fox in her arms.

"Go, then."

"Thank you for all your help," Kuro said, bowing deeply, and Wolf copied the motion in a heartbeat. "We'll . . . see you later."

Wolf's hand still in his, they finally turned away, and set their sights past the trees to the ugly black sea beyond.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Visitors. I was just getting hungry."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER ~~warning for death and drowning~~

The massive _torii_ loomed over them. The sun sat high in the sky, and the shadows it cast were dark as night. A chill traveled from Kuro's head all the way to his toes when they passed under it.

"What's the plan?" The world around them was silent, and Kuro was desperate to fill it. Qiūjì, who had been coiling more tightly around his shoulders with each step closer to the sea, twitched at the question.

 _The water holds most of my power._ Water was such a loose word for it - as they drew ever closer, Kuro found it looked rather like black sludge. _If I can reach it, I should be able to reclaim that power and undo the damage Xiangliu has done._

"And you're sure we can kill him?"

_He can die. Of that there is no question. Were I at my full power . . ._

The dragon trailed off, coiling tighter around himself, and Kuro reached up to stroke reassuringly at his mane. "We'll take care of it," he promised. "We've gotten this far - nothing can stop us now!"

His optimism was met with uncertain quiet, and to be honest, Kuro was not nearly as naive as to believe in his own words. Plenty could stop them - Qiūjì's magic was so weak now, to the point they could almost be considered mortal. If they died, it was over. Not just for them, but for Qiūjì, for China itself, as the country would continue to live in summer until it could no longer sustain itself.

Things were bleak - but Kuro was determined. They would win. They _had to._

"I will take care of it," Wolf said, and Kuro's stomach sank.

"Wolf . . . " Exasperation leeched into his tone. "You're not alone in this, you know."

How many times would he have to drive this point home? He could hold his own. He could _help._

"I know," Wolf replied easily, surprising him. The look he directed Kuro's way was equal parts fond and concerned, and the grip around Kuro's hand squeezed briefly. "I wish to keep it that way."

. . . well. He supposed that part of Wolf would never change; no matter how capable Kuro grew, no matter how much help he could be, the shinobi would always fight to keep him safe. Wolf had so little, after all, he knew - protecting what little mattered to him was an admirable goal, even if he was overbearing at times.

"Okay," Kuro relented, squeezing back, and the ghost of a smile on Wolf's lips was worth it. He would do his best to keep out of harm's way. He may have learned a bit of combat, but there was still so much more yet to figure out - no need to make things harder on Wolf.

The path did not stray, bringing them directly to a cliff at the edge of the sea. There was no life within sight from here. The only thing before them was the murky water, placid and unmoving, and all around them lay nothing but the dead remains left behind by spreading poison. Qiūjì's talons dug at his shoulder, hard enough to prick but not draw blood, and Kuro reluctantly pulled his hand from Wolf's to ready his bow.

Where was this Xiangliu? The sea was vast, stretching on further than the eye could see - perhaps he resided elsewhere?

And then the ground began to rumble, and Wolf threw his arm in front of Kuro to prevent him from falling forward into the lethal waters - and with an explosive splash, a great serpentine figure burst forth from the water. It splashed up against the cliff, and Wolf shoved Kuro back, throwing up an arm to shield his face as he was hit with several droplets of it.

The fabric of his haori and metal of his arm guard sizzled and smoked slightly, but vicious though the water was, there was not enough of it to burn through to his skin. Both of their gazes rose to the creature responsible, and -

Kuro froze. He had expected something large, but this - this creature was _massive._ He had to crane his neck to see its head, and - _oh._ Atop the great, coiling snakelike body, there were nine writhing necks, and attached to them nine giant, remarkably _human_ faces. There were no arms or legs that Kuro could see on its long body, but when it opened its many mouths there were rows and rows of wicked teeth.

 **"Visitors,"** the many heads said, a horrible amalgamation of several garbled tones. Forked tongues flickered from them, an unnatural dark purple. **"I was just getting hungry."**

Kuro did not fight against the hand pushing him back, all the fight leaving his body in place of fear. This . . . _nothing_ could have prepared him for the horror of this unholy creature, its scales a sickly green, its body dripping with the same toxic sludge it had made of the sea.

The Mortal Blade thrummed with power as Wolf drew it. The blade itself was lovely, but the red mist that rolled from it set Kuro's nerves alight. _Danger,_ they screamed, and he backed even further away at the thought.

Xiangliu did not have the same reservations. He dove for them in a heartbeat, so fast Kuro could not withhold a startled shout. All he could do was dive out of the way, but Wolf rose the Mortal Blade high and, as the demon swept over them, dug its point between the murky scales. It cut deep and long, Xiangliu taking many seconds to realize what had happened, and with an enraged squeal he withdrew and backed off.

The heads regarded the blade with interest, but to Kuro's chagrin, all eighteen eyes turned to him a moment later. They swiveled this way and that, observing him evident curiosity, before the mouths all split into abhorrent grins that made him feel sick.

 **"The dragon's emissary,"** they said, and began to laugh. It was an awful noise, one that grated on Kuro's ears and made his very bones ache. **"And the King himself! You'll make a fine meal!"**

The threat spurred him into action, and Kuro quickly nocked an arrow to fire - its aim was true, lodging itself in one of the many eyes as the monster was too busy cackling to dodge. The laughter melted into a horrible screech, and Wolf took advantage of the distraction, his grappling hook shooting out to latch into the cut made prior.

Its length was almost not enough to reach, but the hook held fast, and Wolf shot off the cliff toward the beast. Kuro watched him brace his feet for impact, and without arms, Xiangliu could not stop Wolf scaling his body with the aid of the Mortal Blade and his grapple. Determinedly, Kuro nocked another arrow and let it fly.

It embedded in one of the many throats, and though it was too small in comparison to the demon to go particularly deep, it enraged Xiangliu all the same. It lunged for Kuro, the jaws of the frontmost mouths unhinging like its serpentine motif, and Kuro braced for impact.

But Wolf had reached one of the necks, and with a great effort he plunged his blade straight through the flesh.

Xiangliu _writhed,_ shrieking in fury and agony, and Wolf wrenched with all his might to drag the Mortal Blade further along the flesh. The neck grew limp as the muscle of it was severed and, with a final pull, it fell - and Wolf with it, the grappling hook shooting for the cliff before he could fall into the water.

The beast continued to scream and writhe and coil around itself - and then its tail shot out of the water and wrapped around Kuro's middle before he could even see it coming, darting for him from his blind side.

"Kuro!"

His bow fell from his grasp, dropping into the death below and fizzling as it sank, and Kuro was raised high into the air and dangled over the sea. Futilely he struggled, slamming his fists on the hard scales and kicking his feet, but all he managed to do was lose a sandal to the waters.

_Wolf!_

Qiūjì's shout tore his attention from escaping, and he turned his head to find Wolf soaring toward the tail, blade drawn and ready to free him -

One of Xiangliu's heads shot toward him, mouth splitting wide open and catching the shinobi between its wicked teeth. The horrified scream that escaped Kuro at the sight was uncontrollable, and he reached out uselessly as the head thrashed violently.

Wolf was shaken about like a ragdoll, but in an admirable display of control he managed to dig his blade into the grotesque tongue of the head, and it automatically dropped him as it opened its mouth to cry its outrage. The shinobi plummeted, and before he could gain control of his descent another head took hold of him; this one, however, threw him back onto the cliff, where he hit the ground hard.

Wolf did not move for a long moment, and anxiety welled up in Kuro's chest and throat, tears stinging at his eyes - but eventually, the distant figure began to push himself onto all fours, though the blood staining the grass was unmistakable even at this distance. The shinobi staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on his blade, and Xiangliu hovered just out of reach, both trying to assess who would strike first.

_Kuro! Get me to the water!_

Qiūjì's command snapped Kuro into looking away, and he glanced down to the lethal abyss below.

 _I never even learned how to swim,_ he thought deliriously.

The katana Wolf had bought him was still at his back, although he had not touched it in a long while. Xiangliu's grip made it difficult to twist his arm to reach it, and then to wrench it out of the sheath, but Kuro managed with some difficulty. Perhaps he had no use for swordplay, but raising the blade high above his head and plunging it deep into the muscled appendage that held him did not require impeccable eyesight.

The tail seized around him, loosening for just a second, but then its grip tightened so hard a horrific _snap_ rent the air, accompanied by a pitiful scream that Kuro did not realize was his own until he registered how his throat burned at the effort. Pain exploded in his chest, increasing with every fragile breath inward, and Qiūjì's claws tightened fretfully at his shirt as every exhale came out as a whine.

 **"You want to reach the water?"** Xiangliu spat, tail coiling even tighter and earning a pathetic whimper. **"Then** ** _drown in it!"_**

No - was it possible? Did Xiangliu not know?

There was no room to wonder further as Kuro plummeted, plunging into the icy depths with the tail still wrapped around him.

The water was awful and thick, and Kuro hadn't the chance to close his eyes as he was pushed deeper and deeper to the muddy bottom. Already his lungs burned with the effort of holding his breath, and panic rose in his throat as the appendage squeezed harder, trying to force the air out of him. His skin and eye burned as the water forced past the dragon's blessing, trying to eat away at him.

His nails scrabbled uselessly at scales. His eyelids began to flutter, the panic overwhelming. He couldn't escape. If he could just breathe in -

The impulse overtook him, and he took in a lungful of water - and immediately began to choke. But there was no air, no way to expel this toxin from his body, and his limbs began to grow weak in their struggles. His hands slowed in their efforts to pry himself free, and his eyelids drooped, the panic melting away with everything else. The acid burned at his throat and lungs but he had no energy to protest it.

As his eyes slid fully closed, he could have sworn something golden began to glow in the murky depths - but then there was nothing at all.

* * *

Kuro.

Kuro was . . .

Wolf could only stare. Could only watch the still surface of the water, his heartstrings twisting themselves into knots, and pray to - to _something_ that a familiar bob of black hair would resurface any second now.

His veins burned, the sting of venom coursing through them even worse than the dull ache of the puncture wounds stretched across his torso. He was past the point of standing, now, any command over his limbs becoming pathetically flimsy. It felt like his flesh was being eaten away from the inside - perhaps it was - yet all concern for himself flew out the window the moment Kuro went under.

He waited. He counted. He . . .

He could not have . . .

"Kuro - "

The name spilled unbidden from his lips, throat tight and voice thick, and his eyes burned at the thought he could not bear to finish. Xiangliu turned its heads - minus one - toward Wolf, a self-satisfied grin stretched across every one of them. It hissed something out through those wicked fangs, but Wolf could not understand. He would not have cared even if he did.

 _Well,_ said a voice with astonishing clarity past the muddled thoughts in his head, _isn't that a shame?_

Even deeper than the burn in his veins was the fire surging in his muscles. It was familiar - almost welcoming. He fought it nonetheless.

"No," he said aloud, through gritted teeth. "I will kill him myself."

 _Let us kill him together,_ purred the voice.

What was the point in denying its wish any longer? Kuro was . . . gone. And Qiūjì had gone down with him. What was left for Wolf outside of that? Outside of vengeance?

He hadn't the will to say no this time.

The flames burned hotter, surged brighter, overtaking the agony of his wounds but failing to smother the ache in his heart. Wolf could feel them licking at his skin, escaping his flesh where it had been torn open. The demon within rumbled with pleasure, but Wolf hardly noticed - hardly cared.

The Mortal Blade fit differently in his hand when he yearned to kill rather than protect.

Xiangliu's eyes narrowed, then widened as the shinobi rose to his feet. It seemed a demon was not stopped by a failing body - with Shura's power coursing through him, he found little struggle in standing straight and pulling his katana from the ground. Slowly, he approached the edge of the cliff, no urgency in his movements.

Sure, he could dash straight for Xiangliu's heart - but why rush? _Better to prolong it. Make him suffer for what he's done._

Wolf raised his prosthetic arm, ready to fire, and shot a lingering glance back down at the water -

It was glowing.

Wolf paused. Blinked. Shura protested impatiently within; he ignored it. Xiangliu was just as shocked by the sight, faces twisting into horror, then rage, and he recoiled as though trying to escape something rapidly approaching -

A white blur shot out from the waters, and the liquid that splashed back at Wolf was golden and shimmered and did not burn his skin away. Xiangliu gave an outraged screech, but it was smothered by an even more furious howl, one that shook the ground, and the sky responded with a rumble of thunder as murky gray clouds developed overhead in the blink of an eye.

Even Shura had gone silent, but in fear that battled with the awe Wolf found as he stared up at the dragon he had traveled this entire time with. Qiūjì had been massive the first time Wolf saw him, but this . . . this was him in his full glory. He was colossal, towering over Xiangliu, his branching horns arcing high in the sky, and when he opened his jaw lightning crackled among his teeth.

Xiangliu raised his heads, bared his teeth, lunged - and Qiūjì caught him by the throats with his teeth, not even involving his clawed limbs, one of which was clenched into a tight fist. The dragon flung Xiangliu into the air, catching the serpent by the heads on his descent, and before Wolf's very eyes began to _swallow him whole._

 _Now that's a formidable opponent,_ Shura spoke up, a lust for blood seeping into its tone.

"No," Wolf instantly protested, but despite his attempt to dig his heels in, Shura moved his body regardless with no effort at all.

The demon carried him to the cliff's edge, Mortal Blade raised and grappling hook ready. Qiūjì turned to him, mouth drawn in a snarl, and two of his wicked hands reached out for the demon facing him.

_I am sorry for this, Wolf._

Shura plunged the Mortal Blade into one of the appendages, but Qiūjì did not even flinch. His hands were so big they smothered Wolf when they wrapped around him, squeezing so tightly he could not breathe, as though Qiūjì were trying to force the life from him -

The fight left his limbs quickly as Shura faded away, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he succumbed to the oncoming darkness.

.

. .

. . . and then he awoke gasping and coughing for breath, the sickly sweet of sakura a familiar burn in his throat and nose, and Wolf grasped at his throat as a few petals fell from his mouth and fluttered to the ground below him.

Disoriented, he surveyed the world around him - he was still on the cliff. The Mortal Blade lay a few meters away. The sea was still glowing, painting the otherwise dead landscape a golden hue, and - and Qiūjì was staring at him from high up in the sky, expression appearing almost anxious. All was as he left it, but something was . . .

The familiar burn in the back of his mind. It was gone. He reached for it, searching the depths of his conscious - nothing. Shura was missing. Had - had Qiūjì done that?

And then -

"Kuro," he blurted, jerking his head back up to the dragon hovering above him.

Qiūjì closed his eyes in acknowledgement. The closed fist was brought down to the cliff and, heart pounding in anticipation and worry, Wolf nearly fell over to himself hurrying to see its contents. Gnarled fingers slowly opened, delicately unfurling like a blossom's petals, and the breath escaped Wolf all at once like a punch to the gut.

Kuro's eye was closed and he looked a bit battered, a tad worse for wear, but his chest rose and fell with even breaths. His brow furrowed as he was exposed to the elements, then his whole face scrunched up cutely, and blearily he blinked his eyes open.

"Wolf . . . ?" he mumbled sleepily with all the trust of a child awoken by their caretaker, and Wolf was frozen in place.

Kuro was not, clearly, as he blearily rubbed at his face; he then nearly leapt out of his skin, glancing around them wildly and then upward - and shouted in alarm at the sight of the dragon.

"Qiūjì! You're huge!"

The dragon seemed rather taken aback by the . . . astute observation, and finally, Wolf willed his legs to move. Qiūjì, noticing him, nodded in his direction, and when Kuro glanced back to the shinobi realization dawned on his features. Understanding, fear, and relief flickered across his face in rapid succession, and before Wolf could even reach out he was stumbling out of Qiūjì's grasp to throw himself at the shinobi.

"Wolf!"

"Kuro - !"

Wolf held Kuro as tightly as he could, relishing in the warmth he provided, in the way he could feel him breathe within the circle of his arms, and Kuro squeezed him back just as tightly, possibly even moreso. The shinobi rested his chin on that mop of soft hair and closed his eyes, and Kuro sighed into his shitagi.

"Never," Wolf ground out, fighting to keep the crack out of his voice, _"ever_ do that to me again."

Kuro pulled back slightly to look up at him, surprise scrawled across his face. "I'm sorry," he replied, and the guilt it exuded shot Wolf straight through the heart like one of his damned arrows. "I won't. I promise." And then, his eyes widening with alarm, "Oh, Wolf, please don't cry!"

Wolf could not tell what was more embarrassing - the tears or the flush that crawled up his neck at Kuro's plea - but he was saved from having to respond by a familiar, distant shout.

_"Kuro! Wolf!"_

"Húli!"

Wolf turned to see an orange blur bounding down the path behind him, and he held his arm out just in time to catch the fox as she barreled into his gut, leaving him to reel back ever so slightly from the impact.

"You were supposed to wait with Joro," Kuro scolded, though he reached out to brush his fingers through her fur all the same.

 _"I did,"_ she sniffed, and her voice was dangerously wobbly. _"She wouldn't let me come until it was clear, but we watched from the forest's edge - you great idiots, this had better be the last of your adventures!"_

"Oh, Húli, not you too," Kuro sighed at the tremble in her tone, and he took her into his own arms to hold tightly as she quivered against him. "It's okay. We're okay."

As he took to consoling their friend, Wolf did his best to discreetly scrub the tears from his cheeks and glanced up to Qiūjì. The dragon was watching them all with fondness written all over his face, and at Wolf's acknowledgement he lowered himself deeper into the waters to rest his snout on the land before them. The force of it had Kuro turning to face him as well.

 _Finally, I am home,_ he rumbled deep in his chest, so powerful now that Wolf could feel it in the ground beneath his feet, _thanks to you both. I am sorry, my sons, for all the grief I have caused you._

"Qiūjì," Kuro said, exasperation seeping into his tone - he was the most mature of them all, it seemed, holding them together as everyone else struggled not to break down. "It's okay. All we wanted was to get you home safe, and here you are."

Qiūjì closed his eyes and huffed out a warm breath as Kuro wrapped his arms around the scaly muzzle to his best ability, and a single tear slid down the dragon's face and dropped to the dirt.

For a moment, there was nothing, but then the ground began to glow beneath them. The light started to spread out and, before their very eyes, the dead plants at their feet began to unfurl and regain their color. The light's radius accelerated in expansion, stretching across the land as far as the eye could see and rejuvenating it, foliage springing to life all about them.

Then, in another wave of color, it all began to age, painting the land in golds and oranges; finally, after another few moments, the air grew cold and clouds gathered in the sky, and it began to snow.

"The seasons are returning," Kuro remarked, awe in his voice.

 _It will be hard on the country, at first,_ Qiūjì said, _but its people will figure it out again._

The fondness in his voice was unmistakable - Qiūjì cared for his homeland and the people in it, and had missed it more than he let on. Wolf rested a gentle hand on his snout, and Qiūjì sighed gently in acknowledgement of the reassurance.

And then golden light shone from above them, and even Qiūjì glanced up, startled. That was _not_ according to plan, then. Qiūjì rose further, straightening to his full height as though shielding them from the light, and by pure instinct Wolf pushed his way in front of Kuro as an extra layer of protection.

The light grew, then morphed into a great shape - another dragon. But when the light faded, he found this one to be much larger than any of the others they had encountered, and Qiūjì bared his teeth and snarled at the intruder. Its scales were a deep, dark blue, and lights like stars glimmered along its black mane.

It looked just like the night sky.

"Run. There you are."

"Run?" Kuro echoed. "Qiūjì?"

Their dragon hesitated, and the new one fixed its eyes on the humans below. Wolf tensed, ready to dart for the Mortal Blade. Qiūjì was back to full strength, which meant Wolf was free to die - if this dragon became a threat, the shinobi had nothing stopping him from fighting back anymore.

"Ao Run," the unknown one finally clarified. "His _true_ name."

So the Western King did have his own name. Kuro glanced up to him, confused, but Qiūjì moved further in front of his charges.

_Longwang. You will not harm my humans._

"Come, brother. You think me crueler than I am."

Ah. This was the eldest brother the others spoke of - the Dragon King. The staredown continued, Qiūjì refusing to speak further, and before long Longwang buckled; he sighed, closing his eyes, and lowered his head beneath Qiūjì's level.

"I came to apologize. And . . . to welcome you back."

Qiūjì did not respond, but his posture did loosen somewhat. Apparently taking this as a good sign, Longwang directed his attention back to the humans, and he approached the ground, shrinking before their very eyes. With another burst of golden light, he shifted again, and before them stood an ancient, regal man in clothes that glimmered like the night sky.

"I must thank you personally," he said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head, "for returning him home. If there is any way I can repay you, please, name it."

Discomfort rippled among them, and Kuro and Wolf shared an uncertain look before Kuro frowned and squared his shoulders.

"You can thank us by going away," he snapped, and Wolf fought the urge to smack a hand over his mouth before he stretched the Dragon King's patience. "Qiūjì might forgive you, but I don't! You could have done a thousand things to get him back, or at least make our job easier, but instead you left us to do all the heavy lifting. I want you out of my sight!"

Longwang's brow furrowed, and he glanced questioningly up to Wolf as though the shinobi had any real authority over Kuro. "You heard him," was his curt addition. After all, he rather felt the same.

 _You heard him,_ Qiūjì agreed, and Kuro placed his hands firmly on his hips.

Kuro was not even afraid, Wolf realized - there was not the faintest tremble in his posture or waver in his expression. He was furious. Longwang stood once more, an inscrutable expression smothering a baffled one, and he bowed low.

"As you wish. And . . . thank you again."

He vanished in another burst of light and the twinkle of stars, and Qiūjì's body sagged, resting once more against the cliff. Kuro relaxed, sighing and shaking his head, and glanced back up to their dragon.

"Qiūjì," he addressed him tentatively, "or should we call you Ao Run?"

 _Whatever you prefer,_ Qiūjì replied easily.

"Qiūjì," Kuro decided. "Well . . . I guess this is it, Qiūjì. You're back where you're meant to be."

 _"What will you do now?"_ Húli piped up, sounding alarmed. _"You're not going home, are you?"_

To what home could they return? Ashina was undoubtedly no more at this point, and they had no attachment to Japan itself, especially with the Ministry about. Here, they had Qiūjì, Húli, Joro . . . there was no need to leave them behind. It would be nice to stay here.

"We are home," Wolf said, his chest warm at the admission. Kuro squeezed his hand, smile bright.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We're home."

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, bookmarks, and comments are all greatly appreciated! ♡
> 
> please feel free to yell @ me on [tumblr](https://captainreina03.tumblr.com/) for any reason at all, i love the attention! ~~i would particularly LOVE questions about my ocs dfjhgdf~~
> 
> epilogue coming soon...


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